


Initial D Tora! Tora! Tora! 2

by Margrave_of_the_stars



Series: Initial D: Tora! Tora! Tora! [2]
Category: Initial D
Genre: Cars, Fast Cars, Gen, JDM, Project D, Project D in America, Racing, Street Racing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-30 22:40:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13961589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Margrave_of_the_stars/pseuds/Margrave_of_the_stars
Summary: Project D continues their US tour by heading to Maine. Fresh off their victories against the Dukes of Windsor most of Project D excited, except Takumi who is now more focused than ever before, in an attempt not to lose again on the trip.





	1. Northbound

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer! I do not own Initial D, or any characters here in, except those of my own creation
> 
> WARNING! ACHTUNG! AVISO! This is Volume 2 of an ongoing series, if you have not read volume 1 please do before reading this.
> 
> Thanks,  
> Margrave

Chapter 1 Northbound

 

            Project D was well ahead of her, and she knew it, but that was alright, it wasn’t a race.  Molly remembered as she blasted down the left lane of the Maine Turnpike, headed for Auburn Maine.  Mike had sent to sort of keep tabs on Project D as they continued their tour of the United States.  There were two things he had told her to do for certain; see if she could learn how to drift, and not to help their opponents with information, other than that she could do whatever she wanted.  The 302 tucked underhood sang away as the wind held her black hair straight out behind her.  There was nothing better than cruising in a convertible on a perfect summer’s day. 

            Mike’s uncle lived in Auburn Maine, he had moved there after handing the shop over to Mike a year or so earlier.  It didn’t take to long to get to Maine at 95 miles per hour, she would be there soon.

* * *

 

            Ryosuke pulled out of the parking lot onto Route 4 to do some exploring.  It was, of courses Sunday afternoon, and most businesses were shut down, but the roads weren’t.  He headed north in his white FC, and he could tell he was already going to like the area.  Unlike Massachusetts the main roads were two lanes, and higher speed.  There didn’t seem to be built up as much either, so they wouldn’t have to worry about getting sideswiped by someone coming out of a side street, but that idea faded quickly as he approached the twin cities of Auburn and Lewiston, along the Androscoggin River.  Or at least what they called cities.

            Ryosuke continued his way down Route 4  as it went through the city and then back out the other side, past some parts, and tire stores, gas stations, a small shopping mall, and almost every type of chain restaurant that they had encountered in Massachusetts, then past a row of car dealers before almost everything just disappeared as the road led him along past Lake Auburn.

            It was no real secret that Ryosuke wasn’t going to find the local race course without being shown, but at least this way he would be familiar with some places.  Just doing some homework, that’s all.  He noticed the turnaround/boat landing for Lake Auburn on the waters edge.  He would check it out on his way back to the hotel.  The 13B rotary whirred away as Ryosuke moved with the traffic at about 60 miles per hour.  That was something Ryosuke really liked about the new location, the speed limit was high and the roads were taken care off.  Again small buildings started to pop up along the side of the road, mostly houses, but there were some small businesses.  Just as Ryosuke was getting ready to turn around he saw the sign for _Roy_ _’s All Steak Hamburgers._ Beneath that was a black lettered sign that read; _Cruise nights every Friday._ Ryosuke immediately put on his directional and turned into the parking lot, he had an idea.

* * *

 

            “Well it doesn’t sound like everything went the way Mike had wanted.”  Stevie said, leaning back in his chair as he took a long drink from a can of Coke.

            “Yeah,”  Molly responded, hitting the channel button on the TV remote.  “If he hadn’t given them the use of the bay we probably would have swept them.”  She said still agitated that they had lost.

            “But would it have really been a sweep had they tuning their cars in a hotel parking lot?”  Stevie asked.

            “No I guess not.”  Molly said, fake pouting a little bit, “But I hate losing.”

            “But you didn’t.”

            “The team did, and that’s just as good.”  Molly protested.

            “Yeah,  I know.”  Stevie offered.  “So why did Mike send you up here?”

            “He wants me to watch Project D, and to try and see if can’t learn how to drift, but I don’t know. . .”  Molly shrugged, “I’m not supposed to help whoever they’re racing against.  So I’m not really sure of what I’m supposed to do.”

            “Well, you don’t have to stay completely uninvolved.  You could help them, or we could help them.  We could invite them to stay here, and if they don’t want to do that, we can offer them the use of the garage.  We could also help them with the cars they run up against.”  Stevie offered.

            “Then where would you put the Pantera?”

            “I’ll just park it outside while their working, and back inside at night.”  Stevie said.

            “I guess that makes sense.”  Molly shrugged.  She thought about how she was going to talk to them.  She never really talked much, at least with people she didn’t really know well.  She looked at the small sitting next to the microwave on the stand.  She had almost entirely stopped paying attention as she thought about how to go about getting in contact with Project D.  She’d never been able to randomly walk up to someone and start talking to them, and either of the Takahashi brothers would be near impossible for her.  But Mike was counting on her.

            “Hey, go back a couple of channels.”  Stevie said, snapping Molly out of her trance.  “I saw something with cars a couple of channels back.”

            Molly changed down a couple of channels to find some NASCAR coverage on an upcoming race.  Stevie, as well as owning a 1972 Pantera was also huge fan of American Muscle cars, they were all over the place when he was growing up, in the late 1960s and early 1970s.  Growing up in NASCARS heyday had helped fuel his passion for American motoring.  Even his daily driver was no normal car, a 1983 Buick Electra Station Wagon, but Stevie had swapped in an Oldsmobile  350 V8, with a slightly warmed up cam, and a four barrel carburetor.  It surprised its fair share of Fast and The Furious wannabes.

            “You been to a cruise night lately?”  Molly asked.

            “Not lately.”  He admitted.  Molly remembered that some of her and Mike’s earliest dates had been to Riley’s with Stevie on a Saturday night.  She had thought that Mike knew a lot about cars, but Stevie knew far and away more.  It was something in their genes, it had to be.

            “Good then, we should go to Roy’s on Friday.”  Molly smiled, it would give her a chance to show off her Tiger to a whole new audience, even though half the people there wouldn’t know what they were looking at until they saw the 302 lurking beneath the fiberglass hood.

            That night Molly sat out on the front porch.  Above her the sky was a dark blue blanket, pinpricked randomly with stars.  The crescent moon hung against the backdrop as Molly contemplated how much quieter it was, and how the stars seemed much brighter.  All of the sudden, somewhere off in the distance she could here the sound of at least one high performance motor tearing away at the night, more likely three of four.  It was almost impossible to tell exactly where it was coming from, but she knew it was close by, and it sure as hell wasn’t Project D.

            Stevie walked out on the porch sipping a can of Coke.  “They’re early tonight.”  He said.  “There’s a local team that races around here.  I don’t know how they do it in Japan, but it seems like that almost every town has at least one m but once you get a little further north, there aren’t enough kids around to really make teams.”

            “From what I understand they do it about the same in Japan.”  Molly said, not knowing exactly what to say.  “I think it also depends on whether there’s a mountain nearby.  But Project D. . .”  Molly paused.  “They might as well be all stars, I mean that’s essentially what they are.”

            “Sounds good.”  Stevie offered.  “That should make for a good race with the Bow Tie Boys.”

* * *

 

            Four sets of headlights came along the road, ducking into the last parking area before Lake Shore Drive intersected Route 4.  The road is exactly what it claims to be, a strip of two lane black top that follows the shore of Lake Auburn in most places.  Four V8s rumbled in the night, each one of them with its own almost distinct sound, but to the unfamiliar they were just big V8s.  The four cars rolled into parking spots, all in a row, they were all Chevrolet products, and each car wore a sticker on the rear quarter and trunk lid that was the blue Chevrolet bow tie, inside which was printed _Bow Tie Boys._

After shutting down their cars the drivers stepped out and headed for one of the picnic tables down by the lake.  It wasn’t more than twenty feet from the small parking lot.  The three guys led the way, their sister following close behind.  It was clear to anybody who saw them that they were family.

            Bill was the oldest, and the defacto team leader, the rest of his siblings looked up to him, whether it was figuring out how to get out of trouble as kids, or how to attack the turns on Lake Shore Drive, it was clear that he was in charge.  He was well built, just under six feet tall, with short cropped dark hair.  His younger brother Andy was similarly built, a little shorter and a little wider though.  Brian was tall and skinny with longer hair that tended to hang over his left eye.  When he wasn’t driving of course.  Tagging along behind was their sister, Amanda, the youngest of the group.  She was shorter than her brothers, with glasses, long dark curly hair which she usually held up with clips.  They all had the same pale blue eyes, which their mother had taken to calling the Morrissey eyes.

            “Good practice tonight guys.”  Bill said, sitting down on the top of the picnic table.  Amanda glared at him, but he didn’t notice.  She’d been driving with them for almost two years now, and he still treated her just as another one of the guys.  She’d always had to work harder to impress her brothers, ever since she was a little girl, she always had to work harder just to get her brothers to let her play, and now that they were driving as a team, it was no different. 

            Of courses it had been a good practice, especially Bill, as he’d been driving Lake Shore for almost six years, and been the man to beat for the past two at least.  There practices usually consisted of a couple of solo runs per person, and then they would end up playing four rounds of keep up, where each member took a turn at the front of the line, and would try to outrun each other.  Either Bill or Andy usually won, they had the best suited cars for the road.  Bill drove a 1967 Corvette convertible, it was well balanced, and the independent rear suspension that provided handling.  Andy on the other hand had the best car to attack the course, a 1966 Corvair, but he never seemed to be able to keep up with his older brother, even though his Corvair was a long way from how it actually left the factory.  It had been a long project , but the finished result was something to behold.  For starters the old rear mounted flat six cylinder was removed, along with the rear suspension, this made way for a mid mounted Chevrolet 350 V8, which hooked up to a regular four speed transmission, and a Corvette rear suspension to replace the old swing axle version.  It wasn’t the only Corvair to be modified like that, but it was the only one in the area.  Almost nothing could keep up with it on Lake Shore, with the motor in the middle there was almost nothing to compete with it

“Alright, it’s time we head out of here and get some sleep.”  Bill said, as he headed back towards his car.  “We have to be ready to race at any time.”  After the short brake they headed back to their cars and headed for home.

Lately there were fewer and fewer real challengers.  It didn’t seem like any of their opponents even practiced on Lake Shore.  It showed in everything they did, whoever they had raced lately just got smoked.  But the Bow Tie Boys kept practicing, honing their skills and waiting for the next opponent to come along.

* * *

 

            Takumi sat in his car, thinking.  It was dark out, allowing him to feel alone, even though the rest of Project D was just inside the hotel not 20 feet from where he sat.  He needed to be alone right then.  He didn’t really mind sharing a hotel room with Fumihiro, Kenta and Nakazato, but since he’d raced Mike he kept thinking of how he could have won, but with Nakazato and the others always in the room it was difficult for Takumi to concentrate.  In the 86 it was much easier, he was alone. 

As soon as Takumi closed his eyes the race would start to replay itself over and over again in his mind, every turn, every pass, every maneuver.  He scrutinized everything, all the possibilities flew through his head, if he’d kept a tighter drift in one place, if he had straightened the line in another, could he have won?  Would it have gained him that extra couple of seconds to stay ahead of Mike?  The last drift; had he carried that a little to far. . .

            No!  He had done it exactly like he had done in practice, exactly what he was supposed to, it had been a perfect drift.  There was nothing he could have done to win that race, except drive faster, go faster, he needed to be faster he knew that.  Ryosuke had told him that he turned in the fastest time from Project D that night, that there was really nothing he could have done differently to win that race.  As he sat there in his trusty 86 he thought back to some of the things his father had said, skill could only take you so far in an underpowered car, if you wanted to get faster he had to get a faster car.  Takumi knew that a new car wasn’t an option at that point, they didn’t have the money, not to mention the fact that he didn’t want to give up the 86.  It had essentially been the only car he’d driven for more than six years, it was almost a part of him, replacing it would be like amputating an arm, or a leg.  The car was as much a part of him as any one of his fingers or toes.

            That meant, for the time  being, the only way to win was to go faster in practice, to go faster in the race.  His dad was wrong, the 86 was fast enough, and always would be, he had the skill to make up the difference.  If he went faster in practice he would be able to push the limit when it came time to race.  He had to win to prove that he belonged with Project D!

            Without even realizing it Takumi fired up the 86, and headed out of the parking lot.  He didn’t really know where he was going, but he just wanted to drive, to get his mind cleared.  There was something about the sound pf the motor that always seemed to calm him down, to clear his mind.  After the years of racing and driving, it had become something very familiar to him.

            As he sat at a stop light on Route 4 a purple Honda Civic coupe rolled to a stop next to him.  Takumi remained completely oblivious until the other driver revved the motor, causing the turbo blow off to snap.  Takumi looked over to see a girl in her early twenties sitting in the car next to him.  She had long light brown hair, and stared at him from the driver’s seat.  She revved the motor again, making a face as she tried to goad Takumi into a race.

            Takumi turned forward looking at the stretch of road ahead of him.  Even though it was night there were still far to many places for cars to just pop out of on both sides of the road.  He didn’t rev his motor in response.  Again the other driver revved her motor, trying in vain to goad Takumi into a race.  Again he looked over at the other driver, who gestured with her hands.  Takumi looked back up in time to see the light turn green, there was a sudden roar and the sound of a turbo spooling up as the car next to him launched hard.  Takumi knew better than to race that way, it proved nothing really, only that you could go fast in a straight line, it took no skill, required no real technique, it was really just a way for someone else to feel like they had won without really being a driver.

            Takumi found the next parking lot and turned around and headed back to the hotel.

* * *

 

           “What?”  Keisuke asked his older brother who was in the process of explaining his plan.  “It won’t work Aniki.”  He said, knowing full well that it probably would work; Ryosuke’s plans had a knack for working out.

            “It will work.”  Ryosuke said assuredly.  He continued in his cool modulated voice.  “There’s a burger stand on the other side of the city that has a Cruise Night on Friday.  If any of the competition around here drives American performance cars the way Mike’s team does they will most likely be there on a Friday night.”

            “Alright, I got that part.”  Keisuke said, getting a little impatient.

            “You remember the other night, how we walked around Riley’s with cameras, and nobody really paid us any special attention.”  Keisuke nodded, of course he remembered, it was just the other night.  “That gives us the perfect opportunity, we can show up there in one of the vans, or on Takumi’s 86, and nobody will really notice.  Allowing us to walk around and take pictures of the cars, and talk with the drivers about what they’ve done.  And I’m sure you can see the advantage in that Aniki.”

            “But Mike said that they don’t setup races at these Cruise nights, that its just an excuse to show off their cars.”  Keisuke responded.

            “Right, which is why we go.  The people who race won’t be looking for people to race, so their guard will be down, the pictures will at least help us study the cars somewhat before we have to face them.”

            Of course.  Keisuke thought, Study, practice, analyze, all the problems of the world could be solved by those three things according to his older brother.  But is usually paid off in the end.  Keisuke laid back against the pillow on the bed, Ryosuke was right, it would be very easy for them to collect data on possible opponents.

            Then there was the matter of Takumi, he had lost to Mike, and regardless of how much Keisuke had come to respect the kid, but the old rivalry still burned deep inside him, making it impossible to not take at least some joy out of the kid’s loss.  It didn’t help the Ryosuke, his own brother seemed to pay more attention to the kid.  But the competition had really stopped between them long ago as they were both working towards the same goal, and that was the domination of Japan’s street racers with the ultimate goal of becoming professional street racers.  The old rivalry had faded into the background as they had become teammates, but still it was nice to know the kid was human.

* * *

 

            Amanda crept out the back door of the house and headed for her silver Nova.  The sun was just about ready to come up.  Some people, actually a lot of people had criticized her for turning a Nova into a road machine, it seemed like every punk kid with a Honda Civic thought there was nothing that could be done to make an American car to perform.  Boy did she like seeing their faces at the end of the race.

            She nestled into the Recaro bucket seat, the door shutting behind her with a sort of tin can rattle, because, to be honest, the Nova wasn’t the best piece of machinery to ever where the Bow Tie.  But it got the job done, and she wasn’t the only one to turn heads with a modified Nova, they were light and could take almost any of the motors offered from Chevrolet, they just really needed good suspensions.

            The bucket seat held her close and firmly in position.  She fastened the four point harness before inserting the key, and turning it to the “ON” position.  She didn’t start it.  The rest of the family was still asleep, and the motor firing was liable to wake them up.  Applying pressure to the brakes she realized the parking brake.  When she put the clutch in the car started to roll back down the drive way to Route 4.  Near the bottom of the hill she slowly released the clutch until the motion from the driveline forced the engine to kick over and fire.  The mighty 350 rumbled to life as Amanda sat at the end of the driveway, allowing the oil to move through the gallies as the motor warmed up.

            Once warmed she flicked on the lights, and with the roar of the motor, and the scream of tires Amanda launched hard down Route 4, laying down twin strips of rubber.  So much for not waking her brother.  She’d been doing this for the entire spring and summer, as she continued to try and prove herself to her brothers.  It was looking good, no one had been able to beat her since the last fall, and her time were getting quicker and quicker on Lake Shore Drive.  It would only really be a matter of time before her brothers would see it.

            Lake Shore Drive wasn’t far from their house.  Decelerating slightly Amanda threw the Nova onto the side street, tires squealing at the limits of their adhesion.  She planted her foot on the gas pedal, stepping out the rear end slightly as she took the turn, beginning another of her practice sessions.  She was determined to be one of the best racers in the area, to make her brother see how she had become.


	2. First Contact

Chapter 2 First Contact

 

 

 

            Ryosuke sat at the small table in the hotel room.  The morning sun was just beginning to filter in through the slightly opened shades.  In the background low tones from the television mixed with the sounds of Keisuke’s snoring.  Ryosuke rubbed his eyes, sleep, something he hadn’t gotten any of last night.  Sometimes he envied his brother. 

            An old thought had crept back into his mind as he lay awake in bed the night before.  Takumi and the 86.  Even though the young Ace had done well in his battle against Mike he had lost, and the loss had been no fault of his own, his technique was perfect, and there had been no dirty tricks.  This would be a good opportunity to get on the kid about it again, even though their options were limited.  There were only a few cars he could use, and most of them weren’t good choices.  Nakazato’s GT-R was possible, but not a good choice, fast, but heavy, it had all wheel drive.  But that would take some getting used to for Takumi.   As far as weight was concerned Kenta’s S-14 would be the best choice, but it was still underpowered, especially concerning what they might be running up against.  It really wouldn’t stand a chance, even with Takumi at the wheel, and it would really be a step backwards.  That meant there were only two real choices, either the FC or Keisuke’s FD.  The GT-R though, it was probably the best decision, and Takumi did have experience with all wheel drive, but the ATTESA system fitted to the GT-R were different from what Subaru had to offer.  It was a tough choice, but ultimately, one only Takumi could make.  It all came down to his choice, but the kid most likely wouldn’t venture outside his comfort zone, he would go for one the RX-7s, Ryosuke knew it.

            Takumi needed to grow, he needed to move outside his normal level if he was going to realize his full potential as a driver.  Ryosuke knew it was his job to push Takumi, and to lesser extent Keisuke to the limit.  He had so much natural talent it would be a shame to see it go to waste because the kid refused to give up an old 86 that was almost as old as he was.  He still had a long way to go, but if he could just clear this one last hurdle, the biggest of them all, he would have it made. 

* * *

 

 

            “Bill!”  Followed the loud knocking at his bedroom door.  “Come on we gotta head to the track.”

            Bill cracked a heavy eyelid and look at the alarm clock sitting on the nightstand.  The red numbers staired unblinkingly back at him 530.  “Ugh.”  Bill grunted.  Sometimes he hated going to the track.  It had stopped being fun a long time ago, about the time he had gotten his drivers license, about the time he had discovered Lake Shore Drive.

            As long as he could remember his father had been trying to turn him into a professional driver.  Particularly NASCAR, but it wasn’t something Bill wanted to do any longer.  He still loved to drive, especially his Corvette.  At the track things were so incredibly different, they were always wanting to change a setting on the car, or the tire pressure, or something that only made a slight difference out on the track.

            It wasn’t really his fault, accept for being born first, it was just the luck of the draw.  His father had been a good amateur stock car racer when he was younger, his father still maintained that he would have gone pro if it hadn’t been for one wreck late in the season.  Back before he had had kids, before he had even thought of getting married he was racing at one of the local tracks.  Apparently NASCAR scouts had come to watch him, and see if he had what it took to move up to the next level.  The scouts, as Bill’s father always said were working for some big time sponsor, it would have made his career in racing, or at least that’s what he believed.  Towards the end of the race he was in the lead, with the second place driver close behind.  Seeing that they were closing in on the checkered flag, Bill’s dad didn’t stop for fresh tires, just gas so he could get back on the track in good position.  He had been doing and excellent job of blocking the second place driver, but with two laps to go, he moved hard to block on the high side, pushing his car into the marbles at the edge of the racing line.  The already worn, and compromised tires wouldn’t have anymore of it, the left rear blew out, sending the car out of control to smack into the wall at 130 miles per hour.

            The impact broke his knee, and the scouts were not impressed with the lack of judgment that had been demonstrated.  The following season Bill’s father was back behind the wheel, but this time no scouts were watching, and he never raced the same way again.  He had always maintained that it was his left knee being broken that had made him uncompetitive.

            Bill knew the truth lay someplace other than what he had always been told as a kid.  Sure his father still limped from the wreck, sure his knee didn’t work the way it was supposed to, and it made it difficult for him to manipulate a clutch.  The way his knee was would have made it damn near impossible to deal with the clutch in a stock car properly.  But there was another factor; his old man was probably scared of wrecking again, but the broken knee provided him the perfect excuse to stop racing.  And now that his dream had been denied he was going to try his damndest to get his son to make it for him.

            Lately it had been getting worse, his father wanted more and more for Bill to give up street racing.  It could get him injured, or landed in jail, but what it really came down to was the fact that Bill was spending more and more time street racing, and it took away form his practice at the track. 

            Bill heaved himself out of bed and threw on a pair of jeans.  He still wanted to race, and race professionally, but not on the ovals and super speedways his father had in mind, not in NASCAR, where they were constantly turning left all the time.  He wanted to race Trans-Am, or the American Le Mans series, on the road courses with cars that had real suspensions, and to Bill, Lake Shore Drive offered a much better approximation then any of the small stock car tracks.

            He opened the door anyway, and headed to the truck and trailer waiting in the drive way.  He couldn’t tell his father yet.

* * *

 

            Stevie hardly ever seemed to be up early, but then there was almost never anything so important that he head to be up early.  Molly reflected as she blasted down Lake Shore Drive headed towards Route 4.  The road was nice, freshly paved, with numerous turns, and hills, and some good straight sections as well.

            She wasn’t out to set the record for a time trial, but Molly still went rapidly down the road.  Only occasionally eliciting squeals from her tires if she threw the car a little more enthusiastically.  She downshifted going up the small hill past Taber’s hot dog stand, when over the crest of the hill she spotted the silver Nova heading in the opposite direction, and boy was she moving. 

            It almost impossible to tell the year, or who was driving because they ad closed and past each other so quickly.  Molly knew there was only one team a Nova would belong to.  She thought about it more as she headed back towards the downtown area, looking for a place to east breakfast.  It had to be, but who would practice in the daylight, and if it was a member, and if it was a member of the team, where were the rest of them?  It didn’t matter, she finally realized, so someone was out getting a little extra wheel time, she’d have to start doing that soon. 

            Turning her attention to a more pressing matter.  Molly found a small diner and parked out front.  She headed in to get some breakfast.  After a meal of pancakes, eggs, and bacon Molly walked out of the diner to find a silver Nova parked on the opposite side of her car, the owner, another girl, about her age, leaned against the car.  Her arms crossed over her chest.  Molly gave a half hearted glare.  She had been followed, and now this other driver had waited for her.  Molly tried to pay as little attention as possible to the other person.

            “Nice car.”  Amanda said as Molly climbed in.

            “Thanks.”  Molly responded coldly from the driver’s seat.  Its one thing get complimented about your car, it’s another mater entirely to be hunted down.

            “It’s not everyday we see a Sunbeam Tiger around here.”  Amanda continued.

            “Yeah, I’ve noticed that too.”  Molly answered; she twisted the key and the 302 burst into life.

            “260, or 289?”  Amanda asked.

            “Neither, 302.”  Molly answered, this time though she looked up at her inquisitor, and found her to be one of the most unassuming people she would meet.  She looked almost like a librarian, except she wore jeans and a zip up fleece. 

            “Ahh, that’s happy.  I’m Amanda."

            “I’m Molly,” she said extending her arm over the passenger seat.  “I’m not used to seeing Novas done up for road racing, I’m used to stop light drag cars.  Definetly not what I saw you doing earlier.”  Molly looked the car over, it was straight, and the paint was good, real good.  The team sticker of the Bow Tie Boys was displayed proudly on the rear quarter panel.  She didn’t say anything, it might come in handy in the future, maybe it might allow her to get close and find dig for information on the Bow Tie Boys. 

            “It was nice to meet you, but I have to be going.”  Molly said, notching the shifter into reverse.

            Amanda watched as the dark metallic blue convertible disappeared into the traffic.  She could still hear it long after she’s lost sight of it.  It really wasn’t everyday that someone showed up with a Sunbeam Tiger, especially someone who drove the way Amanda had seen earlier.  She probably raced.  It would be interesting to see if she would race.  Amanda smiled as she climbed back into her Nova, interesting indeed.

* * *

 

            Keisuke made his way across the parking lot towards his yellow FD.  He smiled as he approached, sometimes when he looked at his car he couldn’t help but smile, the body kit, the hood, the wing, they all helped make the car go, and they had the added bonus of just looking plain cool too.  He jumped in and fired up the twin rotor engine.  He couldn’t help being restless, they’d been waiting around to long, but now it was only one more day before they would be at the cruise night, and soon after that they’d be gearing up for the upcoming races. 

            With a touch of throttle he was finally off.  Ryosuke had been out and done some very preliminary scouting, and with that in mind Keisuke headed towards the center of town.  The only other thing he needed besides to stretch his legs was some real food.  The hotel food wasn’t bad, but he knew their had to be better food somewhere close by.  He rocketed down the road, blowing past the slower traffic in the right land, he smiled as he shifted, feeling the shifter click into place, and the fresh surge of power.  He wasn’t going to fast, but it was just fun to lean on the gas and bang a couple of gears.  Eventually of course he had to slow down for traffic, and stop lights.

            While sitting at one of the stoplights he saw a rather busy restaurant sitting diagonally across the intersection.  It was really as good a place as any.  Keisuke snapped his head around when he herd a motor rev on a downshift, a strong motor.  A small blue convertible rolled to a stop next to him, the top down.  Keisuke knew he’d seen that type of car before, and it finally hit him, when he looked at the driver.  It was a girl, with longish black hair.  It was Molly from Medway!  As Keisuke stared with his mouth open Molly looked at him.

            She had known all along that it was Keisuke.  How many other people had an RX-7 that looked like that? 

            “You know green means go.”  She smiled jokingly at Keisuke.  She pointed to the traffic light to maker her point before accelerating away.

            Keisuke waved absent mindedly out the window as he too pulled away from the light and into the parking lot on the other side of the intersection.  Never in a million years had he expected to see anyone from Medway again.  He put the thought out of his mind, Ryosuke did say that Mike had family in the area.

            After his meal Keisuke came back out to his car.  When he fired it up the fuel gauge was just a few needles shy of empty.  That wasn’t going to last him long, he knew.  Rx-7s never did well on fuel economy, even when brand new, and there was no way that the modification done to his FD helped that situation at all.  There weren’t any service stations between him and the hotel, accept for the one just past it, but he knew he might not make it that far.  The last thing he wanted was to have to call Ryosuke or someone to bring him a can of gas.  It would only lead to another lecture from Aniki, he knew it.

            Very easily, Keisuke pulled out of the parking lot, his belly full unlike the FD’s gas tank.  He went right, the opposite direction from the hotel, there had to be a gas station around somewhere.  He was right, not far down Route 4, he found a number of gas stations, but not having a lot of gas meant he couldn’t be too picky about where he went.  Keisuke pulled into the first gas station he saw.  He grumbled to himself about having to pump his own gas.  Just as he was about to push the button to select the grade of gasoline, he stopped, hand hovering only a few millimeters away from the black 93.  Stepping back Keisuke looked at the pump, and the others around him, 93 was the highest octane rating.

            “Do you need help pump three?”  A voice blared over the loudspeaker.

            “Yeah, where’s you high octane?”  Keisuke said, his arms spread out to the side. 

            “It’s right there at the pump, sir.”  The voice blared again.

            “You mean this 93 crap.”  Keisuke said, beginning to get frustrated.

            “Yes, sir, that’s the highest we have.”

            “Well where can I get some 102 octane.”  Keisuke asked angrily.

            “Nowhere around here.”    

            “Fine!”  Keisuke all but punched the button and began to fill his car.

            Great now they had to find another place to get real high octane gas.


	3. In The Presence of The Enemy

Chapter 3 In the Presence of the Enemy.

 

 

            “You saw who?”  Ryosuke asked his brother.

            “Molly, that girl from the shop.”  Keisuke replied.

            “You mean the shop in Medway?”  Ryosuke asked carefully.

            “Yes, I think she was Mike’s girlfriend.”  Of course the one from Medway, Keisuke thought to himself.

            “And you’re sure it was her?”

            “Oh come on Aniki.”  Keisuke said in exasperation.  “How could I mistake her, how many people would be roaming around up here in one of those cars with Massachusetts plates?”

            “Alright.  Mike did say he has family in this area.”  The elder Takahashi brother leaned back in his chair, stroking his chin as he thought.  Why would Molly be here?  Perhaps she and Mike were vacationing with family, but Keisuke hadn’t mentioned seeing Mike’s Cobra, or any of the other Dukes of Windsor for that matter.  It was something else entirely, and he knew it, but what?  Ryosuke’s supercomputer brain arrived at the most likely conclusion just as Keisuke began to speak.

            “Aniki.”  He said slowly.  “Do you think that she is here to spy on us?”  Keisuke finally voiced what had been his suspicion all along. 

            “I think so.”  He responded, but it still didn’t make much sense.  Ryosuke hadn’t planned on challenging the Dukes of Windsor again, they had proved their point the first time.  The only thing that would change this though would be if Mike showed up soon, he might be looking for a rematch for his team mates.  Even though he could just be visiting family.

            Keisuke looked across the room at his brother, knowing they were both working on the same thing.  “What do we do Aniki?”  Keisuke finally asked.

            Ryosuke did not answer right away, his eyes narrowing under his dark hair.  “If she is really here to spy on us, than we can use it to our advantage, if not, than we have nothing to worry about.  Either way I don’t believe we’ll have to wait long to find out.”  Ryosuke said.

            Keisuke looked at his older brother with a confused look on his face.

            “Alright.”  Ryosuke began.  “North on Route 4, on the other side of the city there is a small hamburger stand, with a driving range, mini golf, and some batting cages.  On Friday night however, they have a cruise night.  If the locals around here race American performance cars, like Mike’s team, I believe they will show up for the cruise night.  I also believe Molly will also show up.  The cruise night gives us an opportunity to scout the competition, as long as we keep a low profile.  So that means we have to take one of the Project D vans, and possibly Takumi’s 86.  That way there won’t be any attention drawn to us.”

            Keisuke nodded in response, somehow Project D had taken on an espionage element.  But it was true.  If they were to show up at a cruise night with a GT-R, a bodykitted FD, and a carbon fiber bedecked 86 they would turn heads, and immediately be seen as a threat.

            “If Molly shows up we can also talk to her, maybe to help us gain some info on at least the cars of our perspective opponents.”

            “Alright, but how do we know she’s going to help us?”  Keisuke asked.

            “We don’t, but I think it’s safe to say that she will at least give us info on the cars.  She can’t have been here longer than we have, and if so not by much.  She wouldn’t have had enough time to deal with the teams around here.  She knows us, and sometimes that’s half the battle.”

            “Oh Aniki, I found another problem.”

            Ryosuke looked back at his younger brother with the same cool calculating stare he always seemed to have on his face.

            “They don’t have high octane gas around here.  I had to buy that 93 crap.”

            “That’s not good, we’ll have to retune the cars.”  Ryosuke said thinking about how little of the coveted 102 octane now rested in the gas tank of his FC. 

            “Do you think there’s anywhere around here that we could get good gas?”

            “I don’t know.”  Ryosuke said, stroking his chin.  “You remember how hard it was to find in Medway.  And even then, Mike was the only one who had it.”

            “I know.”  Keisuke replied, it defiantly didn’t look good.

* * *

 

            Bill climbed in through the window of the race car.  It was the only way since the body was made without doors.  The car only vaguely resembled a road car, and was painted black with a handful of sponsor stickers affixed to the body work.  The Chevy V8 in front of him sat at a lumpy idle.  _I don’t like this car._ Bill thought to himself as he set about fastening the racing harness, and fully enclosed racing helmet.  _I would much rather be driving my Corvette._ The crew chief, his dad, stepped up to the driver’s side door.

            “Everything good Bill?”  He yelled over the rumble of the motor, a motor that had no muffler in its exhaust system.  Bill responded with a thumbs up, it would have been nearly impossible for his father to hear him through the helmet.  “Good now remember this is only practice, so don’t push it to hard.  Just feel it out so we can deal with any problems without having to rebuild the car.”  Again Bill gave a thumbs up.  Of course he wouldn’t push it to hard, its not like it was the first time he’d been behind the wheel.  He notched the shifter into first gear, waiting for the official to give him the go ahead.

            The official gave the go ahead.  Bill stabbed the gas and popped the clutch.  The mighty Chevy small block roared, the rear tires squealed, briefly engulfed in a blue gray cloud of smoke.  He rocketed down pit lane and out onto the small oval track.  IT was true that he shouldn’t push the car, but if he didn’t push at all it made if really hard to diagnose possible issues before qualifying.  After five laps of going about three quarter speed, he stepped it up for the final few laps.  At about 85 percent Bill noticed the rear end was starting to get squirrelly, little bit latter there was a significant lose of power about 4500 RPM.  Not good, the carb was having issues.  It had been a good practice, but all it did for Bill was reinforce his love for his Corvette, with its real suspension and fuel injection.  He didn’t want to race like this anymore, but he was obligated by his father, and to the sponsors who helped fund the season.

            The car stopped perfectly in it assigned pit box.  Bill shut down the motor, and climbed out.

            “How’d it do Bill?”  His father asked.

            “I think it could use a rear track bar adjustment, a little lower tire pressure on the left rear and a the carb need to be re-jetted.”

            “You think?  Why don’t you know Bill?  This is serious, if you don’t do well it will hurt your future, we could lose our sponsors!”  Bill’s father yelled.

            “Fine, I know.  Re-jet the damn carb cus it was starved for fuel at 4500 RPM, and the rear end  started to break loose as I pushed a little harder.  So adjust the track bar, and lower the left side tire pressure!”  Bill spun on his heels and stomped off towards the truck.

* * *

 

            “Hillside Auto?”  Mike answered the phone at the shop.  Molly could tell by his voice that he was a little out of sorts.

            “Hi Mike, it’s me.”

            “Oh, hi, have you been able to get in contact with Project D?”

            “No, but I did see Keisuke the other day, but he was alone.”

            “Oh.”  Mike answered, in the background Molly could hear and impact wrench, Mike must have picked up the phone in the shop.

            “Pretty busy down there?”  Molly asked.

            “Yeah without you to handle the paper work, and to help out with the pumps when we get a rush it’s pretty hectic, not to mention we get some local high school punk looking for a race every five minutes after 2 o’clock.”

            “Sound like fun.”  Molly answered.  “I was just calling to check in.  I’ll let you know when I get to talking with the Project D guys.”

            “Alright, I gotta get going babe, love you.”

            “Love you too.”  Molly answered before hanging up the phone.

            Through the open door in the kitchen out to the barn Molly herd the engine of Stevie’s Pantera turn over and roar to life.  Molly walked to the door.  The back was open exposing the Webered 351 Cleveland, and transaxle.  It had a lumpy idle, with just a hint of black smoke coming from the four exhaust trumpets.  Stevie appeared on the driver’s side, he leaned over the rear fender and gave the carburetor linkage a tug.  There was a quick puff of black smoke which quickly disappeared as the motor came on cam.  The radical cam Stevie had installed led to the lumpy idle and the black smoke, from running to rich at idle so the motor would not be starved at higher RPM.  Once it got going the motor would need every drop of gasoline.

            “How’s she running Stevie?”  Molly asked as her eyes took in every inch of the cars sultry shape.  What a wonderful no nonsense car.  It was among the first generation of supercars, behind the Lamborghini Miura, and just ahead of the Ferrari 365 GT 4 BB.  The spiritual descendant of Ford's famous GT-40, without the racing pedigree. 

            “It’s doing real good.”  Stevie answered.  “I just wish I got to use it more, not really something I can take down to the Auburn Mall, or to the big apple for a gallon of milk.”

            “But Stevie, you have some of the best roads around here, what about going over to Rumford?”

            “I know.”  Stevie admitted.  “But I don’t usually get to haul off to Rumford or Portland all the time.”

            “Yeah,”  Molly answered, knowing that if she, Mike, John and Fox didn’t race they wouldn’t use their cars as much as they did.  But Molly could not even think about using another car except for winter driving.

            “I figured if we’re going to Roy’s tonight I should at least make sure it’s running right.”  Stevie said.

            “I’d say it runs right.”  Molly said, what scene they were going to make, a Pantera and a Sunbeam Tiger, coming in together.  _Hope the locals are ready._  Molly thought.

            Stevie had another idea however.  Being late only meant that they might miss some of the cars that showed up for the start of the show.  It would allow them to get some food before most of the cars showed up though.

            Molly and Stevie were among the first few cars to show up at Roy’s, just before 5 o’clock that afternoon.  There were some decided advantages to showing up early , it ensured that the two could park together, and allowed them to get food before the line got to long.  Most importantly though, it allowed them to see cars coming in and take note of what might be the most interesting cars to take a look at.

            Molly was just about to pop a French fry into her mouth when from behind her she hear the roar of a high performance motor on a downshift, the sounds was different, but unmistakable, it was a V8, a _big_ V8.  Molly tuned  as fast as she could, there was only one car that it could be, a maroon 1962 Ford Galaxie two door.  The car itself was very unassuming, a plane-Jane two door with black steel wheels and dog dish hub caps.  The roof was the antithesis of aerodynamic, essentially a box over the passenger compartment, unlike the sports roof that followed in 1963 ½.  But the sound the emanated from the dual exhaust and the clatter of the sold lifter cam belied all preconceived notion of how the car should perform.  Molly watched as the beast backed into the spot next to her Tiger.

            “Wow, did you hear that thing?”  Molly asked, only half turning around to face Stevie, fearing that if she took her eyes off the car it would disappear.

            “You should see it run.”  Stevie responded.

            Molly looked back at him with a cocked eyebrow, knowing that Stevie knew all there was to know about that car.  She picked up the little container that had the last few fries in it and deposited it in the trash as she made her way back towards the Tiger, and the new comer as well as the crowd that had quickly gathered around the Galaxie.

            With her small stature Molly was able to make her way though the shifting throng of car enthusiast to be near the front when the driver opened the hood.  He was an older man, probably in his 60’s, with gray hair and a beard.  He just ignored the people peppering him with questions, placating them every so often with a “You’ll see.”  The hood went up without so much as a creek.  Molly stood on tip toe, while trying to keep a respectful distance while the owner went about his work.  She caught a glimpse of the carburetion and immediately noticed they weren’t the normal four barrel, or dual quads she was used to seeing on classic high performance Fords, but three two barrels.

            “Pretty neat huh?”  Stevie said looking at his nephew’s girlfriend.

            “Yeah.”  She responded, pulling her eyes from the oval air cleaner and polished chrome valve covers.  “I remember you and Mike mentioning the Ford triple deuce, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen them before.  So what is it, a 352, or a 406?”

            At the sound of that the owner looked over towards Molly, again ignoring the myriad of questions directed at him.

            “Stevie whose this young lady?”  The owner of the Galaxie asked look at the petite dark haired girl in her 20’s.  “Most kids today don’t even know there was a 352 or a 406.  But then again, having something to do with you family. . .”  After that he sort of trailed off.

            “This is Molly, my nephew’s girlfriend.  Molly this is Harvey.”  The two shook hands, and exchanged polite nods.  “She’s up here following a team of racers from Japan.”

            “Really?  Sounds interesting.  Oh and by the way, it’s a 428 Super Cobra Jet, to answer your question.  Harvey said in complete deadpan. 

            “You’re joking right?”  Molly said, “Nobody can find an SCJ, and you mean to tell me that you guys got one and put it in a ’62 Galaxy.”

            “We built it.  Built the whole driveline and suspension.  You’re right though, it did start as a 352 but we bored it out, put in a 428 crank, a hot solid lifter cam, SCJ heads, and valve covers, and topped it all off with the triple deuce setup, and tri-Y headers.  The heads I think are only one of two sets in the state of Maine.

            “Wow.”  Molly gasped.  “Mike would love this car.  What about the rest?”

            “Oh, we got a NASCAR four speed, and a nodular 9 inch rear end with 4.11s.”  Harvey said again in complete deadpan.

            “How did you get your hands on all this?”  Molly gasped.

            “We built it in the ‘70s, this stuff was a lot cheaper then, even though it wasn’t that easy to find.”  He shrugged.

            “What’s it dyno at?”  Someone in the crowd asked.

            “Don’t know, never done it.”  Harvey answered, “But it’s got 13:1 compression, so we always figured somewhere north of 450.”

* * *

 

            “I bet my Chevelle could take you, I _know_ it’s got 450 horses under the hood.”  Ryosuke herd someone saying as he led the members of Project D towards the only real crowd at the cruise night.

            “We’ll see.”  Responded an older man with gray hair and beard.

            “I’ll see you tonight on Lake Shore Drive.”  The first person said, much younger than the man he had just challenged, turned and walked away, another young man, and a young lady  behind him.

            “We’ll see.”  The older man responded again.

            “Aniki, look.”  Keisuke whispered over his older brother’s shoulder.

            “I know.”  Ryosuke said.  In the process of logging away the street name in his supercomputer brain, he had been taking a canvas of the crowd he had spotted Molly’s Tiger nestled between the big Maroon car, that seemed to be the topic of discussion and something that looked exotic.  He found her not far from the older man.

            “Excuse me?”  Ryosuke said quietly

            Molly just about froze when she herd the familiar voice.

            “Hello.’  She answered tensely as she turned around.

            “Nice to see you again.” Ryosuke said with a slight bow.  “This is your car isn’t it?”  The elder Takahashi said, moving toward the gleaming dark blue convertible.

            “Yeah,”  She responded, her heart still caught in her throat.  It was tough for her to keep calm, most of her work had just been done for her.  She looked behind Ryosuke, to the other members of Project D standing behind him.  They looked directly back at her with a mix of emotions evident on their faces, but mostly surprise and a little bit of anger.  Molly noticed a couple of them had cameras as well.  Ryosuke continued to look over Molly’s car, leaning over the front fender with his hands behind his back.  It didn’t surprise him at all to find another pushrod V8 wedged into the small engine compartment.

            “This is a nice car you have here.  But I should have expected as much from a member of your team.”  Ryosuke complimented.  Molly didn’t know how rare praise of that caliber was coming from leader of Project D, what she did realize was that even his compliment sounded a little cold, but maybe it was just translation difficulties.  “These wheels, are they Wantanabe’s, like on Fujiwara’s 86?”

            “Thanks, and ah, no, they’re Minilites.”  Molly responded quickly as she watched the well dressed Ryosuke make his way from bumper to bumper.

            “You race too, don’t you?”  He asked.

            “Of course.”  Molly replied.  She may not have faced Project D, but there was no reason for them not to know the truth, not that Ryosuke wouldn’t figure it out at some point.

            “So what are you doing up here anyways?”  Ryosuke finally asked.

            Molly was taken a little aback by Ryosuke’s sudden question, unable to even process the information.  She thought about if for a few seconds and determined it would be better to tell Ryosuke the truth, he would surely find out one way or another if she lied to him.

            “Well, I came to visit Stevie, Mike’s uncle, and to sort of keep tabs on you guys, help if I can and hopefully.”  Molly paused.  “Learn how to drift.”

            Unlike most of the other members of Project D, Ryosuke only arched an eyebrow an imperceptible amount upon hearing that.

            “Oh, sorry, by the way this is Stevie, Mike’s uncle.”  Molly said indicating the middle aged man.  He had dark balding hair, and stood about five and a half feet tall.  “And this is Harvey”  She said indicating the older man with gray hair and beard.

            Ryosuke shook each man’s hand in turn, and introduced himself and the rest of Project D as well.  Once he had done that he began to take not of the two cars parked on either side of Molly’s Tiger.

            “What are these other two cars?”  Ryosuke asked.

            “A 1962 Ford Galaxie, with a modified 352, and a four speed, and a 1973 De Tomaso Pantera.”  Molly responded.

            “Ah, I’ve herd of them both, but never been fortunate enough to see one in the flesh.  What can you tell me about our perspective competitors?”

            “Not to much, I haven’t run into the whole team yet, but Stevie can probably tell you more.  They are here, so we can check out their cars latter.  Might even get to see them run.”  Molly looked over the Harvey.

            “Oh, you will.  I’m not going to let some punk kid think he can take out my Galaxie with a Chevelle.”  Harvey answered.

            “We shouldn’t talk about it here though.”  Stevie said.  “They might hear us talking about it, later tonight, after the race.”

            “Alright.”  Ryosuke responded.  “But most places are closed after a race would be over.”  Ryosuke said.

            “You guys can come to my house, we can talk it over, and be away from people who might overhear us.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N. Just thought a glossary of some of the terms I used.   
> Triple Deuce; Three two barrel carburetors working on a progressive mechanical linkage.  
> 9 inch rear end. Ford rear axle that was renowned for its durability, and strength, those made of nodular iron even more so.  
> Super Cobra Jet. A Ford FE series engine displacing 428 cubic inches(7.0L). This was a high performance street motor, underrated by the factory at 335 HP. Because it was an FE series motor many parts were interchangeable between displacements.  
> Thanks for reading, and remember, I’m always looking for reviews to help me write a better story, so please leave me a review, and let me know what you think.  
> Thanks Margrave.


	4. Let's See Action

Chapter 4 Let’s See Action.

 

 

            “We shouldn’t talk about them here.”  Stevie said in what for him was a hushed tone.  “The kid who just challenged Harvey is one of them, as were the other two with him.  We can show you their cars though.”

            “Of course.  That would be helpful.”  Ryosuke responded.  “Do you know of any other teams around here?”

            “There’s a few.”  Stevie answered, as the group made their way through the parking lot.  “There’s a team of kids that’s running a lot of Japanese cars.”  Stevie was careful not to refer to them as wind up toys, or cracker boxes.  “A Honda, a Mazda MX-3, and some sort of Mitsubishi.  There’s also a lot of teams that come to challenge the Bow Tie Boys.”

            “So they’re the best in the area?”  Ryosuke asked.

            “Of course, they’ve owned Lake Shore Drive for the past couple of years now.”

            Ryosuke looked around as the group walked through the parking lot.  He paid attention to the cars, like Riley’s it was a mix of American cars, mostly, a couple of classic English cars but nothing to exotic.  The leader of Project D also paid attention to the other people around, watching for the reactions to the group.  But there were none, Nobody gave Project D as much as a second glance.  The cameras didn’t make a difference to the people, especially since they weren’t the only ones who had cameras slung around their necks.

            Shortly the group came upon the three cars present from the Bow Tie Boys.  Stevie looked them over and turned to Ryosuke.

            “There’s usually four.”  Stevie offered.  “Their leader is involved in low level stock car racing, which is probably why he’s not here.”

            Ryosuke nodded, logging that little piece of information away for latter.  Who knew what might come in useful in the future?  The members of Project D equipped with cameras set abut photographing the Bow Tie Boys cars, paying attention to engines, suspension, and platform.  Just as Ryosuke thought, nobody at the show paid them any attentions, just some more car guys taking pictures of classic cars.

            “Ryosuke, look at this.”  Nakazato said with a wide eyed stare.

            Ryosuke’s emotions didn’t change as he walked around the nose of the Chevelle.

            “What is it Takeshi?” 

            “Look.”  Nakazato pointed into the engine bay. 

            Ryosuke followed Nakazato’s finger, his eyes widened only a minimal amount as he looked at the massive orange engine block, topped off very wide polished chrome valve covers, a large circular air cleaner and a set of headers.

            “That things huge.”  Keisuke said, looking over his brother’s shoulder.  “What is it?”

            “If what that kid said earlier is true, it’s an LS6 454 V8.”  Ryosuke said, remembering how things seemed so incredibly different in person.  He looked at the massive lump of cast iron and aluminum.  450 horsepower, 500 lb-ft of torque, it was tough to imagine anything coming from a Japanese factory like that.  But at such a weight penalty, and in such a big car, how would it be able to handle, and how much faster would that engine be in something smaller?  Something mid engined?

            “Is that overhead cam?”  Keisuke asked, noticing how wide the valve covers were.

            “No.”  Ryosuke said as he shook his head, chin thoughtfully held in his right hand.  “Its pushrod, the valve covers are so wide because this motor has splayed valves, for better breathing.  Be sure to take photos of the front suspension.”

            “Alright boss.”  Nakazato responded.

            “Aniki I found something else.”  Keisuke whispered.  “I’ll show you.”

            Again Ryosuke walked over to another of the Bow Tie Boys cars, it was something Ryosuke recognized but it took his supercomputer brain a few seconds to pull it out.  Click! Chevrolet . . . Corvair. . . _Unsafe at Any Speed. . ._ Ralph Nadar. . .Swing axle suspension.

            “It’s a Corvair.”  Ryosuke uttered, “Why would anybody want to race this thing?”

            “Look Aniki, the back seat.”  Keisuke said.

            Ryosuke did look, and their, sitting behind a makeshift bulkhead was a V8 engine, where the back seat should have been.

            “Hmmm.”  Ryosuke said, looking at the configuration, “They didn’t come that way from Chevrolet.”

            “Really, I didn’t think so.”  Keisuke answered, as if the jury-rigged bulkhead wasn’t a dead give away.

            “It came from the factory with a  turbocharged flat six at best.”  Ryosuke answered.  “They originally had a swing axle suspension system.”

            “Swing axle?”  Keisuke said, with surprise.  “You mean like the Volkswagen Beetle?”

            “Exactly.”  Ryosuke responded.  He walked around to the back of the car, and just about laid down on his stomach, essentially at the bottom of a pushup, so he could look at the rear suspension.  Keisuke followed suits, and a moment latter wasn’t quiet sure what he was looking at.

            “It’s an early form of independent suspension.”  Ryosuke said, knowing his brother would eventually ask the question anyways.

            “Huh.  Pictures?”

            “Pictures.”  Ryosuke confirmed, as he got back up.  “This will be one tough machine to beat.”  Ryosuke looked around and of course, not far away was Molly, Stevie and Harvey.  Ryosuke walked over to the groups.

            “Like what you’re seeing here?”  Stevie asked.

            “Well yes and no.”  Ryosuke said.  “I had hoped that the whole team would be here, but from what I see these guys are serious.  Looks like it will be a good challenge.  I was hoping we could arrange a time to discuss them soon.”

            “Of course” Stevie responded.  “Tonight after the race, or maybe tomorrow afternoon.”  Stevie said glancing at Harvey.

            “We could.”  Ryosuke said.  “Speaking of which, where is the best place to watch from?”

            “There are a couple of good places.”  Stevie responded.  “There’s the starting line, and the first straight aways, there’s a shorter one near Taber’s, and then the finish line.  It’s tough in a lot of places, because the road is rather narrow, and follows the shore line, and there’s usually woods opposite that.”

            Ryosuke nodded thinking of timing locations, it would work out well, allowing him  to gather data on at least one of the opponents so Project D would have something to help them prepare.  It wasn’t long before the different team members came to Ryosuke informing him that they had exhausted their supply of film.

            “Is there any place we can get these developed?”  Ryosuke asked Stevie.

            “Of course, there’s a Wal-Mart off of Route 4 they can do it, and they’ll have the best prices.”

            “Alright, thank you.  Now let’s go get some food.”  Ryosuke said, and almost instantly all the members of Project D were paying attention.

            The group sat at a couple of the picnic tables that were around, and almost constantly, Keisuke, Nakazato, Kenta and Fumihiro peppered Stevie and Molly with questions about different cars they had seen, except of courses for the cars driven by the Bow Tie Boys.  Stevie loved it, having a whole bunch of fresh ears to talk to, even better they already had a considerable knowledge of cars, but just not about the American cars that they were in the presence of.  Molly listened, and answered some questions, and while she  looked at the Project D boys just about hanging on every word Stevie said, she thought about something a High School math teacher said; “Math is an international Language.”  Boy he might have been right, but he should have added cars as well.

            As was typical of a cruise night cars were constantly coming and going, giving the members of Project D fresh eye candy, and an opportunity to learn.  The crowd began to disappear as the sunset, eventually leaving only a few small groups of cars, the Bow Tie Boys among them.  Brian Morrissey sauntered over to where the small international group was standing.

            “So, are you going to race tonight?”  He asked, directing the question towards Harvey.

            “Of course.”  The older man answered, “Lake Shore Drive you said?”

            “Yup.”

            “How we gonna do this?”  Harvey asked.

            “A sprint from the Route 4 intersection to the end at Skillings Corner Road.”

            “Alright.”  Harvey nodded.

            “Fifteen minutes, be there.”  Bryan said, and turned on his heels and walked back to his car.

            “Let’s go.”  Ryosuke said.  “Where’s the best place to watch from?”

            “You want to be at Taber,” Stevie answered, “It gives the best view for the longest period of time.”

            Ryosuke nodded.  “Keisuke, Kenta, Nakazato, you guys go to the finish line, Takumi, Fumihiro, you go to the starting line.  Grab the timing gear from the van, as well as the radios.  I’ll be at Taber’s with Stevie and Molly, Fumihiro, ride with Takumi to the starting line.  Alright, let’s go.”

            Molly’s heart caught in her throat, knowing she should offer to take Ryosuke to Taber as she was going there anyways, but somehow, it seemed to be to forward, and he intimidated her..

            “Ryosuke, would you like to ride along with Molly or me?”  Stevie asked.

            _Thank you Stevie._ Molly thought silently letting out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

            “I’ll ride with Molly.”  Ryosuke responded, and suddenly Molly’s pulse jumped again.

            “Alright.”  She managed to choke out.  The group broke up and headed towards their vehicles.

            Ryosuke climbed into the small convertible, feeling the small old style bucket seat wrap around him.  It was a little bit of a tight fit for a man of his size.  Molly climbed in, and fired up the car without looking at Ryosuke.  He could tell by the way she acted, and moved that Molly was not entirely comfortable around him, most likely because she looked at him still as a competitor, or was even worried about him looking and catching on if she was actually spying on Project D.

            “Have you been on this road before?”  Ryosuke asked as they blasted down Route 4.

            “Yeah, it’s the best way to get to Stevie’s house coming from downtown.”

            “So hear lives nearby?”

            “Yep.  He moved up here a few years ago.”

            “Do you know if he races the Pantera?  He’s set it up rather well for it.”

            “I don’t think so.”  Molly answered quickly.  “He just likes being able to drive it fast and be able to have some fun on the twisty roads.”

            “Hmm.”  Ryosuke said as they turned onto Lake Shore Drive.  He’d been by it before.  “Would you mind picking up the pace a little?”  Ryosuke asked.  “So I can get a good feel for the portion we get to drive.”

            “Of course.”  Molly responded by downshifting and stepping on the gas.  Ryosuke was immediately pinned back in his seat, even though Molly wasn’t anywhere near full throttle.  The engine roared as they rocketed down the first straightaway, towards a right hander that climbed a small hill.  Molly hit the brakes, and downshifted, transferring the weight to the right side of the car as they approached the turn.  She hit the gas as they climbed the hill turn, which quickly snaked back the other direction.  On exiting the turn Molly hit the gas again, quickly gobbling up another straight section before she hopped on the middle pedal again and pulled into the parking lot at Taber’s

            Molly knew that the whole time Ryosuke had been silently critiquing her and taking mental notes.  It was like having Mike ride shotgun, but she didn’t have to worry about Ryosuke’s hand shooting over and tickling her knee at a stop light.

            “I like your car.”  Ryosuke complimented.  “I wish we had more of them in Japan, but I never saw on until we met you guys.”

            “Yeah, it is a good little car.”  Molly answered smiling; only slightly as they both climbed out.

            “Do you know what to expect in this race?”  Ryosuke asked.

            “I don’t, I’ve never seen either of them race before.  But I would have to think Harvey will come out on top.”

            Ryosuke nodded.  It was defiantly foreign territory for him.  Both cars were big, far bigger than anything that would be considered a performance car in Japan, and they had engines displacements to match.

            The two would have spent the rest of the time waiting in silence if Ryosuke hadn’t kept probing for information.

            “So do you know what sort of modifications any of the cars have?” 

            “Nope,” Molly responded, pretty sure that Ryosuke had already asked that question at some point that night.  “But I do know that they practice at night.  I think they start around eleven, or so.”

            “You’ve seen them practice though?”

            “Nope, but I did pass one of them headed the opposite direction.  I think she was out for more practice.  It was in the morning, and then get this.”  Ryosuke arched an eyebrow.  “The bitch tailed me to where I ate breakfast and waited for me to come out.”

            “Did she challenge you to a race?”  Ryosuke asked.

            “Nah,” Molly responded, she felt uncomfortable talking so much with the person she hardly knew.  That was one of the big differences between her and Mike, he could and would talk to just about anybody, especially if the topic of discussion was cars.  “She just asked me about my car, I had been going pretty fast when we passed each other.  It was the girl driving the Silver Nova.”

            “Hmm.”  Ryosuke stroked his chin.

            “Ryosuke?”  A voice said over the two way radio.

            “Yes?  Go ahead Fumihiro.”

            “Three cars are headed your way, a ZL16, an EJ, and a Mazda EC.  They’re going pretty quick.”

            “Alright, thanks.”  Ryosuke responded.

            “ZL16, EJ, EC, what’s all that mean?”  Molly asked, looking up at Ryosuke.          

            “Oh, in Japan, we tend to refer to cars by the chassis designations, like my RX-7 is an FC, while my brothers RX-7 is an FD.  The ZL16 is a Mitsubishi 3000 GT, EJ is a Honda Civic coupe, and the EC is a Mazda MX-3.”

            “Ahh,” Molly said, and they could hear the sounds of the cars coming.  Soon they were turning into the parking lot, led by a pale yellow 3000 GT with purple and red flashes following from the doors leading edge to rear.  Behind that was a pink metallic Civic coupe with an airdam, and modest aftermarket spoiler.  That was followed by a black Mazda MX-3, which also had a body kit, and white decals on the hood.  All three cars had aftermarket wheels, and various stickers from tuning companies in the windows.

            “Hey,’  Molly whispered to Ryosuke.  “Big rims and an exhaust tip don’t make it a performance car.”

            Ryosuke smirked at the remark, they certainly didn’t appear to be the most formidable team out there, especially with two front wheel drive cars in the mix.  They kept a respectful distance from Molly and Ryosuke, probably thinking that neither represented a credible threat considering there weren’t any cars besides Molly’s Tiger, and with the exception of the wheels and hood it didn’t look like the serious race machine that it was under the skin.  Molly knew they had to be talking about her, but then again she tended to think that about a lot of people she didn’t know.

            “I hope this thing gets started soon.”  Molly said.  “I always hate waiting for the start.”

            “Hmmm.”  Ryosuke said.  He on the other hand didn’t have time to get jittery about it, to many thoughts were rifling through his brain, chief among them was who he thought would win, and if Harvey won, should Project D forego racing the Bow Tie Boys and challenge Harvey?  No, that would only be one race, and the Bowtie Boys would be at least three.

            “Ryosuke.”

            “Yes.”  Ryosuke said into the radio.

            “The cars have lined up at the starting line.”

            “Good, Takeshi, did you hear that?”

            “Yes standing by.”

* * *

 

_The Starting Line._

            The two monsters of American muscle sat at the starting line.  The Bowtie Boys Chevelle sitting in the oncoming lane.  Takumi stood right at the line with Fumihiro next to him holding the stop watch.  The two cars idled, loudly with eight cylinder thumping away, solid lifters clattering, with dual exhaust beating out a powerful bass note.  Both cars seemed far too large to be performance cars to Takumi, but they sounded _so_ powerful.  Someone stepped out from the shoulder of the road and held his hand in the air.  Both drivers revved their engines.  Takumi could feel it in his stomach.

            Suddenly the engines roared, tires smoked and the two cars shot off into the night.

            “They’re off!”  Takumi shouted into the radio, “The black car took the lead off the line.”

            “The black car?”  Fumihiro said, giving Takumi a joking glance.  “Come on Takumi, you’re smarter than that.”  He chided.  Takumi watched as both cars accelerated down the first straight away.

* * *

 

_Tabers._

            “They’re off!  The black car took the lead off the line!”  Ryosuke rolled his eyes.  The kid had made great leaps and bounds as far as cars were concerned, but he still didn’t know the make and models of many cars.

            Molly wondered if Harvey really could take the Chevelle.  Both cars were very close as far as power was concerned, but the weight factor probably favored the Chevelle.  Probably the only time the weight factor ever was in the Chevelle’s favor.  Not to mention that there was probably a thirty year age gap between the two drivers.  This race was going to be interesting.

* * *

 

            “Ha, I got you old man!”  Brian laughed as the headlights from the other car remained a safe distance in the rearview mirror.

            Back in the Galaxie, Harvey watched the car ahead of him as they climbed the first right hander, that turned into a left.  The kid had some skill, that was for sure.  He paid attention to the tachometer, not letting the needle creep past 4500 RPM.  He knew he could take this kid anytime he wanted.

            The straight away opened up that ran down past Tabers, Harvey downshifted, slamming it into third gear.  There was a squeal from the rear tires as they struggled to accept the engine prodigious amounts of torque.  The car didn’t accelerate so much as it exploded, the tachometer needle spinning fast, as it raced the speedometer needle to the end of the dial.  Harvey lept out from behind the lead car and screamed past him, engine roaring.  By the time they had past Tabers he was clearly in the lead.

            Harvey jumped on the brakes as he approached the right hand turn that followed the straight away.  _Punk kid._ Harvey thought as he heel and toe downshifted to enter the turn.  It was a mild hairpin, that opened into another short straight section before turning left as it climbed another hill.

* * *

 

            “Wow.”  Molly gasped, after the two cars passed.  Harvey had it, the car was a beast.  The sound of the engine was like nothing else, and she could still hear it off in the distance doing battle with Chevy’s mighty LS6.  Something told Moll that it wasn’t at full throttle though.

            “That is a powerful car.”  Ryosuke said.  It would be interesting if he would be willing to race against anybody from Project D, but not likely.  He’d probably gotten his fill of thrashing kids.

* * *

 

            “I can’t believe this!”  Brian screamed at the Maroon demon still, putting distance on him.  There wasn’t supposed to be anyway this could happen.  The other driver was to old man, and he was driving a Ford that wasn’t a Mustang.  Brian put the peddle to the floor in an effort to try and catch his opponent, but every time he would gain, it looked like the Galaxie had even longer legs.

            Harvey led through a series of turns that skirted the lake.  The Galaxie may have been a big car, but Harvey and his team knew that all that power meant squat if you couldn’t keep it on the road.  Even though it had been a long time, Harvey knew that the kid would try to catch him through the next section.  It was another long straight away that ended in a long sweeping left hand turn.

            A quick glance in the rear view mirror showed Harvey that the Chevelle had gained some ground on exiting the last turn.  An evil smirk creased Harvey’s face, this was going to be fun.  He hoped on the brakes entering the left hand turn at the perfect speed and line of attack to carry the most momentum into the straight away, but Harvey didn’t put the hammer down and finish the kid off.  It would be more fun this way, and teach the punk a thing or two.

            It wasn’t long before the Chevelle had gained on Harvey as the two cars rocketed down the straight away.  The lights from the Chevelle cast a strange light into the cockpit of the Galaxie, but it told Harvey every move the kid was making.  The light moved to the left, as Brian began to try and pass.  Harvey waited a couple of seconds before he gave the engine more gas, opening up the third set of butterflies on the carbs.

            The mighty Super Cobra Jet roared as Harvey wound it up in third gear.  He knew Brian was going to take the inside line.  It was a good move, it would force Harvey to either fall in behind the other car or slow down to maintain the outside line.  But it wasn’t going to work that way.  Harvey kept on the accelerator, the Chevelle never getting past the rear wheels of the Galaxie.  In the few brief seconds before they had to commit to the turn Harvey pinned the accelerator slamming the car into fourth gear.  This allowed Harvey to pull ahead enough to get in front of the Chevelle.

            The two cars stayed close together, as they held the line and tried not to brake the rear end loose.  As soon as the turn opened up into the last straight away Harvey hammered the gas, smoking the tires in third again.  The maroon Galaxie quickly put distance on the Chevelle behind him.  Brian didn’t stand a chance as the afterburner taillights got smaller and smaller.  Brian lifted his foot off the gas, there was no sense in pushing it, he knew when there was no way, he would be able to catch up, much less win.  It wasn’t worth risking the car.

* * *

 

_The Finish Line._

            Heads turned as the sound of a roaring V8 echoed off the pine trees.  The few spectators gathered at the finish line.  People leaned out into the road with caution.  Soon four round headlights appeared over a small rise.  It was still to far off, and too dark to tell which car it was.

            Stevie stood next to Keisuke, and Takeshi, both of who looked on with excitement.  The car continued to roar towards them, slowing down as it approached the Finish line.  Nakazato clicked the stop watch.

            “The Galaxie won.”  He reported.  “Three minutes thirty-two seconds.”

            “Good.”  Ryosuke responded.  “Any sign of the Chevelle?”

            “Not yet.”  Nakazato responded,

            Stevie stepped over to the driver’s side of the Galaxie, he didn’t realize it yet, but Keisuke stuck close by.

            “Nice job Harvey.”  Stevie complimented over the motors lumpy idle and bass exhaust note.

            “Yeah, I knew I had the kid.  I think he gave up part way down the last straight.  But hey Stevie, it’s late and I still gotta get back to Weld.”

            “Of course.  How did the car run?”  Stevie asked, almost ignoring Harvey’s statement that he needed to get going.

            “Good.  Come on Stevie, you know I take good car of this car.  But I hope to see you soon.”

            “Alright.”  Stevie responded.  Harvey gave the big car some gas and accelerated smoothly into the night.


	5. Forming Alliances

The turbocharged rotary whirred away in Ryosuke’s FC as he made his way down Route 4 back to Lake Shore Drive.  Just after the main drag of Route 4 Lake Auburn appeared on the left, the only source of light was from the FC’s headlights.  Pitch black engulfed everything else.  He needed to do some reconnaissance on Lake Shore as Taber’s and the starting line were not the best places to get a feel for the track.

Like Route 4, Lake Shore Drive was pitch black with periodic exception of a street light here and there along the road.  Ryosuke was impressed by the quality of pavement, but given where the road was it wasn’t a good idea to have pot holes and frost heaves the close to a large body of water.  He ran the road all the way out to where it ended at Skillings Corner Road, and parked his car in front of the little general store.  It would not be too difficult for the members of Project D to master; the challenge would have to be in the opposition.  Although the quick pace and the almost constant elevation changes would be difficult to master.  They had experienced something like that in Medway, but the hills weren’t as constant.  With the exception of the first stretch the road was either climbing or descending.

After a long drag of his cigarette Ryosuke climbed back into his car, and headed back down Lake Shore Drive.  He, Molly and Stevie had agreed to meet the next afternoon.  Ryosuke would have to be able to stay awake.  He would send Kenta and Nakazato to film the course tomorrow as well, and the team could start practicing within a couple of nights.  Ryosuke noted a couple of places on the way back to Route 4 where there almost no should before the lake, less than a meter in some places.  Other places along the way were almost out in the woods but the lake was never far away.

Project D’s leader thought as he drove back down Route 4 towards the hotel.  The race match up would take some serious thinking, unlike Japan there were no uphill and downhill specialists, everyone raced the same course in the same direction.  It didn’t make for the most well rounded driver, but then again, neither did uphill and downhill specialists.  Perhaps they could have the races alternate directions.  What Ryosuke knew he needed to take into consideration was which vehicle and driver he would match Takumi against, and how he would get the desired match up.  Suddenly it clicked in his supercomputer brain, the algorithms ran their course and the answer was easily apparent baseball.

 

* * *

 

 

__Tokyo University._ _

__

“Go Mike!”  Sarah exclaimed as she looked at the results on Project D’s website.

“Hey!”  Natsuki protested, “He beat Takumi!”

“Oh sorry, but you had to see that coming.”  Sarah responded.  “The match up was so against Takumi, I don’t care what they did to that 86, or how good of a driver Takumi is.  I know how good Mike is, and how good that car is, Takumi didn’t stand a chance.” Sarah said, brushing a lock of sandy blonde hair behind her ear.

“What do you mean?  I don’t even know what kind of car this Mike guy drives.  Remember I’m just a navigator.”  Natsuki said in cheerful defense.

“The basic idea is that Mike drives a Cobra kit car, the he built to be as close to the original Cobra as it could be, and he built with that course in mind.  The kit car is still based off of a real performance car.  But Takumi is driving basically a sport _ _y__ economy car, and suffers from the limitations of being a sort of economy car.”  Sarah explained.  Natsuki still had a lot of learning to do when it came to the world of cars and racing, but so didn’t she when she met Mike and the Dukes of Windsor.

 

* * *

 

 

A pair of headlights appeared through the haze behind Takumi.  All of the sudden that familiar and discomforting pressure was building on the back of his neck.  His first and only thought was to go faster, he hit the gas, not quit sure what was around him, and the difference in the sound of the 4AG not quit registering.  There was nothing Takumi wanted to do more than wine, and it fueled him to try and outrun the other car behind him.

The steering and the clutch pedal felt unusually light, and as if they weren’t even connected, but the car still performed the same way it always had.  Takumi focused on the road ahead, not entirely sure where he was, it was paved, relatively flat and their were trees on both sides of the road.  Turns approached and Takumi easily piloted the 86 and expert drift through them, tire smoke billowing, engine dully roaring away in front of him.

The next time Takumi checked his rear view mirror the car that had been behind him was on his bumper.  He had opened it up, and gone through the turns perfectly.  It seemed no matter what he did the other car closed on him.  After a second or two it clicked once he realized what was behind him, an Impreza!  Within seconds the blue coupe was next to him, and before he Takumi knew it the Impreza was past him and rapidly disappearing into the night.

Takumi mashed the accelerator, but got no response from the 86’s motor.  He hit the clutch and downshifted, but still no response.  Takumi checked the tachometer, the needle frozen just under 10,000 RPMs.  Takumi tried to get the car moving the way he knew, but nothing worked.  Just as Takumi was about to scream . . .

He woke up, sweating in a hotel room in Maine.  Fumihiro, sleeping not to far away.  Slowly Takumi caught his breath, but his thoughts remained focused on the Impreza he couldn’t outrun and the Cobra he couldn’t catch.  He tossed the covers off and headed towards the bathroom, he quickly splashed cool water on his face and thought about his dream.  Until he raced Mike the only person that Takumi had not a padded silently over to the window gently pulling back the curtain.  The 86 sat just outside the window, a dew had collected on the hood and windshield as the sun poked over the eastern horizon.  It was still too early.

“Shitty old man.”  Takumi muttered as he climbed back into bed.”

 

* * *

 

 

The daily Project D activity closely resembled that of a NASCAR race weekend, just a little bit more relaxed.  It’s not that the members of Project D didn’t take their racing seriously, but they didn’t have multi-million dollar contracts, sponsors, or set times for appearances and starting grids.  The team members sat around on beds, chairs, and the floor of the room the two Takahashi brothers shared, munching on what they had been able to snag from the continental breakfast.

“Alright,” Ryosuke began, “We’ve had some time to scope out the competition, and while it’s clear that the Bow Tie Boys are going to be our main target we still have a lot of work to do.”  All eyes were fixed on the unflappable leader of Project D.  He looked back at the faces, all somewhat sleepy as they drank coffee or juice as they munched.  Takumi looked like he was barely conscious, even more so then he normally seemed.

“We have a lot we need to do.”  He reiterated, “Not only do we have to get the photos developed from yesterday, Keisuke, but we also have to get film of Lake Shore Drive, Nakazato, Kenta, we also need to prepare the cars for practice which will start in two days.  If anybody happens to have an opportunity get any information you can about the Bow Tie Boys without allowing other people know that we’re are going to challenge them.  I’ll be meeting with Stevie and Molly today as well.”  Ryosuke didn’t need to say that was the end it was understood.

Latter on that day Ryosuke made his way to Stevie’s house, following the very detailed directions that he didn’t exactly need.  He pulled the FC into what seemed to be a front lawn; Molly’s Tiger was parked nearby as well so it had to be alright.  There was a small hill that led to the garage of what Ryosuke knew had to be an old barn.  The house itself seemed very large, especially for one person, three stories, a good sized barn and no houses behind them.  The leader of Project D walked up on the porch as he looked through the screen door he saw Stevie and Molly sitting at what appeared to be a Kitchen table.

“Oh good, you’re here.”  Stevie said hearing the footsteps on the porch.  Stevie walked over and opened the door.  “Were you able to find the place alright?”

“Of course.”  Ryosuke responded.  “Is my car alright there?”  He asked, still slightly worried that he might offend Stevie by parking on his lawn.

“Absolutely.  Anything that might keep this grass from growing is fine by me.  It takes me about three days a week to get it all mowed.”  Stevie waved a hand out towards the sliding door to indicate the back yard and the considerable hill.\

“Would you like some coffee?”  Molly asked.

“Yes, thank you.”  Ryosuke responded.

“Please sit down.”  Stevie said.

“Thank you.”  Ryosuke said again.

“So you need some information about the Bow Tie Boys.”  Stevie said as Molly set a cup of coffee down in front of their guest.

“Yes.” Ryosuke responded as he took in his surroundings.  He was in a kitchen/dinning room combo, but just through the doorway was a dinning room complete with wood table, floor, and decorative light fixture.  A small magazine rack next to the sliding door to the backyard contained numerous back issues of car magazines, while a few newer titles were on the table.  Besides that the only other nod to Stevie’s automotive passion was a classic car wall calendar.

“What do you want to know?”  Stevie asked.

“Last night, you mentioned that the leader’s car was missing, what is it?”

“A 1967 Corvette convertible.”  Stevie answered.  “Here let me show you.”  With that Stevie disappeared and went upstairs.

Ryosuke looked across the table at Molly.  “I’m sure you trust my automotive knowledge?”  Ryosuke said in deadpan, not conveying enough humor for Molly to be sure.

“Of course I do.”  Molly responded uneasily.  “Stevie’s like this with everybody, even Mike.  So don’t worry, it’s not you.”

Stevie came back a minute or two latter holding three different books, all on the Corvette.

“Alright, so the leader of the Bow Tie Boys drives a 1967 Corvette Convertible, it’s a 327 350 horse motor with a Muncie four speed.  The Corvettes had tons of potential, and were very good cars, but they were always hampered by the tires.”

“Bias plys didn’t make the best performance tires.”  Ryosuke said.

“Not only that,” Stevie added, “But they were narrower than most other performance cars at the time because of the way the body was designed, the fenders were not wide enough to fit tires much wider than stock.”

“Hmmm.”  Ryosuke said thoughtfully, his chin resting in his hand.  “That severely limits the cars capabilities against machines with a better contact patch.”

“Right.”  Stevie exclaimed, he flipped through one of the books, and suddenly turned it around to Ryosuke.  A two page layout faced Ryosuke, the striking shape of the third generation Corvette, but spread over most of the two pages was a low angle shot looking straight forward at a Corvette.  “Look at how narrow the tires are, and look at the wheel arches.  Many people would cut and flair the wheel arches so they could fit bigger tires.”  That was nothing new to Ryosuke that was standard practice for any form of performance driving.  “This is important because the leader of the Bow Tie Boys, has a ‘Vette that still has a stock body, and while radial tires help the performance, it’s still not as good as it could be.”

“Would it be best to match up my best handling car against it?”

“That would be a good plan.”  Stevie confirmed.  “But you have to remember that the motor does make 350 horse power.  If you’re best handling car is either heavier, or not as powerful you could run into a problem.”

“Good, now what about the other cars?”  Ryosuke asked.

“Well the Nova I wouldn’t worry too much about.”  Stevie said, and Molly clenched her fist, sure that Stevie was going to say because it was driven by Amanda.  “The Nova isn’t the best platform, our local one is running a 350, with about 350 horsepower, again with a Muncie.  But like I said it’s not the a good platform.  The Nova was basically an economy car.”

“Good, what about that modified Corvair?  That seem like it could be a very difficult opponent.”

“Yep, from what I heard its north of 350 horse, with a Corvette IRS, except it has coil overs instead of the transverse leaf spring that the ‘Vettes got.  Again, it has a four speed, and the mid mounted 350 helps the weight balance.  It’s going to be a tough car to beat, what do you have with high horsepower, and good handling?”

“My brother’s FD, and Nakazato’s GT-R.”

“FD?”  Stevie asked.

“Last generation RX-7.”  Molly piped in.

“Oh,”  Stevie said, “And what about the GT-R?”

“It has just about 400 horsepower and computer controlled all wheel drive.”

“Computers.”  Stevie scoffed.  “They don’t belong in cars.  This Nakazato guy is one of your second stringers?”

“Yes.”

“Good, you’re going to need these double aces Molly’s told me about for the ‘Vette and the Chevelle.  The Chevelle has 450 horsepower, but as you saw the car is so heavy that it can be overcome by a car that’s light and handles well.”

“Thank you.”  Ryosuke said.  “Do you happen to know where we could get some high octane gas?”

“What like 93-94?”

“102.”

“Hmm, you might be able to get some at Twitchel’s airport, but it won’t be cheap.”

“Thank you.”  Ryosuke said as he got up from the table.

“Oh, one more thing before you go, would you and your team like to stay here?  Its closer to the course, and it won’t cost you anything.”

“Thank you for the offer, but we wouldn’t want to impose.”

“No don’t worry about it.”  Stevie waved off Ryosuke’s protest.  “There’s plenty of room in this house, and it will be nice to have some car guys around here again.  Come one, let me show you the barn.:

Stevie got up from the table suddenly very excited, and made his way across the kitchen to the door that led out to the barn.  Ryosuke glanced at Molly, before he headed after Stevie.  The barn might have been more impressive on the inside than the out, exposed beams, hooks for ropes, and chains fashioned right out of the branches, and stuck to the beams that had once been tree trunks, or large limbs.  Two levels with the Pantera sitting close to the door with a drive on lift in front of it, and air compressor, tire machine, and at least three or four large red tool boxes tucked away in an alcove.

“You’ve got all that you need in here, huh?”  Ryosuke said.  “I’m sure you have an alignment set somewhere, but I don’t see a tire balance.”

“Oh I got one, well actually two, but you probably want the high speed on the car spin balancer.”

Ryosuke arched an eyebrow, “On the car?”

“Well yeah, I bought it a long time ago, because they were the only way to balance tires and wheels for high speed, works for steel wheels and alloys.”

Ryosuke knew all this, but it showed him a bit more about Stevie.

“So how about coming and staying here, you’ll get access to the barn no problem too.”

“I’ll have to think about it.”  Ryosuke said.


	6. The Last Straw

Bill charged out of the turn hot on the heels of the first place driver barley inches separated the two vehicles.  The Chevy V8 roared at the other worldly wail that can only be obtained by a motor bred to race.  Both cars had slowed down from the pace they had set earlier in the race, as tires wore, and weight balance changed with consumption of fuel.  Now they were down to only a few laps to go.

Just before the race had started Bill’s father came to him and confirmed what had been rumored all weekend; scouts from Hendrick Motorsports were in the stands with clipboards in hand.  As far as Bill’s father was concerned this could be Bill’s one and only chance to catch on with a big time NASCAR team, and Bill know it too, and even though he didn’t want to be in a stock-car going around in circles, only turning left for the rest of his career.  However if he did make it big in NASCAR he might be able to land a spot on an American Le Mans series team or anybody in the sports car racing world.

It affected the way Bill’s dad conducted the pit stops as well, hopefully to give his son the best chance of winning.  But it could always cost him in the long run too.  His father had ignored the continual instability of the rear end accept for air pressure adjustments, but no wedge, no suspension check, and Bill was out on the track with the pedal to the metal trying to win the race.  At the last pit stop they had only taken right side tires, which only helped to add to the instability in the rear end.

From the driver’s seat Bill could feel it getting worse, the left tire was not going to hold our much longer.  He could play it safe and back off, give up some space and maybe a position or tow, but he would finish.  He could also push, try to pass going down into the first turn.  If he backed off even if he finished the race in second he would hear about it from his father, and Bill wanted to win, he always wanted to win.

A little extra pressure on the gas pedal brought the leader that much closer.  The two car blasted down the straight away, the white flag waving as they crossed the start/finish line.  Bill moved to pass on the inside.  He had almost pulled even with the lead car, but holding the inside line allowed Bill to get on the brakes latter than his opponent.  The other drivers dropped back as they entered the turn, Bill having waited to brake till the last possible moment.  The second Bill pushed down he knew what had happened.  The left rear tire had blown.  He didn’t have time to react, the engine jumped in revs as the one good rear tire last traction.  The rear end came around and quickly and the car began to slide up the banking of the track amidst the squeal of rubber and gray tire smoke, slamming the rear end of the car against the wall.  The engine dies instantly, and the sudden silence was unnerving to Bill.  Looking around the gray tire smoked fill car Bill unlatched the racing harness and quickly popped off the steering wheel so he could climb out of the car.  Bill hopped out of the car, none the worse for wear, the car was another story.

“You alright?” Bill heard a voice ask, and quickly there was a pair of hands on his shoulders.  He turned around to see one of the track paramedics.  “Come on, we gotta get you checked out.  What’s your name?”

“Bill Morrissey.”  He responded as the paramedic led him to an ambulance.

 

* * *

 

 

“What the hell happened!”  Bill’s father roared as soon as his son stepped out of the infield hospital.

“Thanks dad, nice to see that you care.”  Bill said offhandedly.  It my not have been what he wanted to be racing but he still wanted to win.  He was a competitor at heart and always wanted to win.

“Do you realize this might have been your big chance!”  Bill’s father continued as if his son had somehow willed the tire to blow.  “Guys from Hendrick Motor sports were in the stands, and went and wrecked the car!”

“Goddamn!  The left rear tire blew, or couldn’t you see that from the pits!”  Bill erupted.  “Only taking two tires and gas was your call not mine!”

“You should have know!”  His father interrupted, “You should have stayed in second and finished the race!”

“Oh second wouldn’t have been good enough for you!”  Bill fired back, “I’m done with this shit!”  He yelled at his father before throwing down his helmet and stalking off.

“You can’t do this.  We have sponsors, we have to finish the season!”

“Find somebody else!”  Bill yelled over his shoulder, his father continued to protest going on about sponsors, and finishing the season, and commitment.  Bill just ignored his father, his face fixed in a scowl of anger.  There was nothing more he could do, his father was not going to see reason, he had a very finely defined idea of how things were supposed to happen, and very focused idea of what was right and wrong.  One thing they both shared was their extreme stubbornness.

He kept walking, past pit lane, past their truck, past the official’s trailer, until he found a pay phone.  Picking up he the receiver he called home collect.

“Hello?  Bill?”  Amanda answered the phone on the other end.

“Oh good.  Could you come pick me up?”

“You had another fight with dad, huh?”  

“Yeah I did, could you just come and pick me up.  I really don’t want to talk about it right now.”

“Ok Bill, I’m on my way.  It’s gonna be like an hour though.”

“That’s alright, as long as I don’t have to ride home with dad.  Bye.”

“Bye.”  Amanda echoed, before Bill hung up the phone.

 

* * *

 

 

“Alright, so what happened?”  Amanda asked her older brother as he slumped into the front seat of her Nova.

“I quit.”  Bill said plainly.

“What?”  Amanda asked with surprise.

“I quit.  I’m tired of driving big poor handling cars around in a circle.”

“So how did it happen?”  She asked.

“Well there were some Hendrick scouts watching the race.”  Bill began.  “So you can imagine how dad got.  I was running third, before the last pit, dad made a call for two tires and fuel.  I picked up a position there.  Well on the last lap I passed for first and the left rear tire blew, put the car into the wall back end first.  When I came out of the aid station dad was all over me about wrecking the car, and especially in front of the Hendricks guys.  If he’d just done four tires I could have fought my way to first.”  Bill said.  “So I quit.  I don’t want to deal with these cars anymore.”

“Oh,”  Amanda said, knowing she shouldn’t tell Bill what had happened the other night because it would make him angry, but at the same time the ride home would give him some time to cool off.

“How was your weekend?”  Bill asked.

“Well. . .”  Amanda hesitated, “Brian lost a race on Lake Shore.”

“What. . .to who?”  Bill roared, Amanda flinched involuntarily, gripping the white ball Hurst shift knob, a little tighter.

“Some guy named Harvey, in a Maroon Galaxie hardtop.”

“Brian’s an idiot.”  Bill spat out, resting his head on his hand.  “Do you know who that is?”  He didn’t give his younger sister time to answer.  “That car is filled with Ford Racing goodies.  The Chevelle’s a beast, but we tried to tune it so it would still be somewhat streetable, but that Galaxie might as well be a race car.  I can’t freakin believe this.”

The two rode on in silence for some time.  Only the sound of the motor and the road going by underneath were audible.  Bill stared out the windshield, trees and other cars blurred as they passed.  Brian just needed to know more, he always had been a little more detached from the scene than anyone else in the family, but that was still no excuse for not knowing that man and that machine.

“You know what this means?” Bill said after about fifteen minutes.  He only paused briefly, not long enough for Amanda to respond.  “It means every asshole with a bodykit and exhaust tip is going to come crawling out of the woodwork to challenge us.  Oh this is going to be a fun next couple of weeks.”

“Yeah, I figured as much.”  Amanda responded.  “But that was it for the weekend, nobody else challenged us.”  She said in a happy tone.

Bill began to plan, he knew what was coming, everybody in the area who thought they had a fast car would be coming out to Lake Shore to challenge them.  The reality of the situation was that even if Bill had been there he wouldn’t have challenged Harvey, he probably wouldn’t have been able to beat him, even though the Corvette was lighter, had a better suspension and Bill knew Lake Shore like the back of his hand.  The ‘Vette was still down at least 100 horsepower to the Galaxie, and Harvey had years more experience.

But that didn’t matter, what Brian had done was stupid, but he couldn’t change it now, but he sure as hell could be angry at the kid.  It would be tough, but Bill had an idea to prevent just anybody from getting a race against them, but it would be a bold move.

 

* * *

 

 

After considering all the options carefully Ryosuke decided the Project D should take Stevie up on his offer.  It was closer to Lake Shore Drive than the hotel, it had all the facilities they needed and would be much cheaper than a hotel would be too, not that money was an option, but keeping the bill down was always a plus.

Now Project D was getting settled in Matsumoto was astounded at what Stevie had tucked away in that old barn, even if he needed to be taught how to use the Coates tire machine, and the on the car high speed spin balancer.  But everything was there, a lift, an air compressor, and an arsenal of impact wrenches some of which Matsumoto knew he might not ever use, even when he got home.  Everything he needed was there.

Now that they had film of Lake Shore Drive Keisuke and Takumi as well as Nakazato and Kenta could focus on learning the ins and outs of the road.  At the same time Matsumoto could start working on the cars.  Ryosuke might want them practicing as early as that night, it was Monday after all.  Ryosuke sat at the kitchen table, pouring over the books that Stevie had provided.  Truth was, the while the vaunted leader of Project D knew a little about most of the American cars they had run up against what he knew was only through print, and back home, books about the Nova and Corvair were almost impossible to find.  Stevie knew so much about the vehicles, he had been around when monsters like that were common, but he was needed in the barn.  Matsumoto was a top flight mechanic, but he still needed to be shown how to use some of the older equipment Stevie had filled his barn with.  Something told Ryosuke that it would take Matsumoto quite awhile to get used to the on the car high speed spin balancer.  There would be plenty of time to ask Stevie questions latter, right now he needed to scrutinize every little bit of information he could get his hands on.

Stevie had provided a book on Chevrolet small block V8s engines, but it was a world apart from Japan, where and 86 always got a 1.6L 4AG, and AE85 always had a 1.5L 3AG, or and RX7 always had a 13B, with the only major difference being how many if any turbos it had.  The Americans had an entirely different idea, it was the old way of building horsepower, the same block, the same displacement earned a different engine code based on the cylinder heads, cam, carburetor, and any combination of numerous parts.  Was the cam hydraulic or solid lifter, the heads cast iron, or aluminum, what size were the valves how about the connecting rods, was it one four barrel, two fours, or tri-power.  It made it difficult to discover what motors actually resided in the engine compartment the Corvette, Nova, and the Corvair, all Ryosuke knew was the displacement and there were dozens of motors with the same displacement but vastly different part and capabilities.  Somehow though Ryosuke knew that Stevie was going to come in extremely handy.

Molly walked in from the other room, and looked at the eldest Takahashi admiring how focused he was, how driven he was for his team to succeed.  He was a lot like Mike in that respect.

“It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it?”  Molly said, knowing it would only be tougher the longer she waited to speak to him.

“Hmm.”  Ryosuke responded, “It’s a lot more difficult than what I’m used to dealing with.  These Chevrolet engines, with all the codes for what the engine is equipped with. L46, LS6, L88.”

“Yeah, you almost have to be raised with it.  That’s how Stevie and Mike know what they know.  Unlike Mike though, you folks

never really get exposed to these the way we get to see some of the best Japanese cars here all the time.”

“Hmm, it’s true.  You guys definitely have an advantage over us, and you have built some very interesting machines.  Not always the most balanced and well handling but some very nice cars.”

“Yeah, the stuffs out there now to make a lot of them handle better, but it never beats something that was designed to handle from the start.”

“True.”  Ryosuke said, continuing to flip through the book in front of him.

“Ryosuke, I was just wondering.”  Molly paused, until he looked up at her, instantly intimidating her even though he didn’t mean to.  Molly’s voice caught in her throat.

“What is it?”  Ryosuke asked.

“I was wondering if I might be got a chance to learn how to drift soon?”

“First off, you should come to our practice tonight, to watch, or ride along, I don’t know if I’ll be able to teach you, but I’ll see about getting someone to.”

“Thank you Ryosuke, is there anything I can do to help?”

Ryosuke sat back, the wood chair giving a creak in protest.  He cradled his chin in his right hand.  “Yes, there is.”  He finally said, “Its clear that you race, I’m not entirely sure why you didn’t race us in Medway.  Knowing this I’m sure you Mike and the other would have some experience on Lake Shore Drive.”  Ryosuke paused, and Molly wasn’t sure where he was going with his line of reasoning.

“Well I guess we have, we’ve raced locals here a couple of times, but not too often.”  She said with a shrug.

“Good I think it would be an asset to the team if you were to give my brother and Takumi some pointers on the best way to attack the course.”

“Sure anytime, I don’t know how much of a help I’ll be, but I’ll do what I can.  When do you want me to sit down with them?”

“As soon as you can.”  The leader of Project D responded.  “They’re in the living room watching film of the course now.”

Molly twirled her keys on her finger, “I think I’ll go for a drive, better have a fresh run of the course under my belt if I’m going to help your drivers.”

“Good thank you.”  Ryosuke responded, he watched as she disappeared out the door.  Molly would give them good information, it may not have a significant outcome on the race, but the leader of Project D knew that psychology was an important factor too.  Unlike the previous summer Project D did not have the luxury of going home Sunday morning.  More than 6000 miles away from home without the comfort of a home course, and friends and family that would keep them loose.  This was important for his drivers, but especially Keisuke and Takumi, they had to learn to adapt and to deal with issues regardless of location.  It would make the final transition easier for them.  But they did need some sort of life preserver, they needed something to help them feel comfortable.


	7. Display of Talent

Molly stood among the members of Project D as they prepared to start the nights practice sessions.  They all seemed to move with purpose, but there was no sense of panic, only mission.  It was amazing the way they worked, Mike had told her that they held very intense practices, but now was the first time she’d been able to see it firsthand.  The way a mechanic rode along with a computer sitting on his lap.  She wasn’t entirely sure what they were for, but it had to have something to do with monitoring performance, or searching for problem areas with the way the cars was running.

Keisuke’s yellow FD rolled into the parking area, growling with a downshift as he navigated to a parking spot.  Once parked the younger Takahashi brother climbed out of the car and quickly went over some technical data with his mechanic, and brother.  Takumi stood nearby, Matsumoto making some final adjustments before he made his practice run.  Just before Takumi pulled out to take the starting position Keisuke walked over to the Panda Trueno and started talking with Takumi..  He described a couple of sections of the course with his hands, but quickly they were done, and Keisuke was walking away from his younger counterpart.   Molly wondered what they had been talking about, but knew it had to be something having to do with the course.  She watched as Takumi leveled the car with the starting line.  The motor on the 86 revved up a couple of times, one of the Project D support crew waved a hand and the little old Corolla hatch launched hard, __real__ hard, especially for practice.  The tires screamed, the little engine roared as well as it could and Takumi began his first practice lap of the evening.  Molly was so distracted that she didn’t even notice that Keisuke was walking towards her.

“Molly.”  Her heart jumped, when she heard the younger Takahashi brother call her name, for despite being around the Project D boys more and more she still wasn’t exactly comfortable around them.  Especially the Takahashi boys.  There was something about them, something commanding, charismatic, intimidating.  He smiled at her as he approached his practice run must have went well.

“Oh, hi Keisuke.”  She managed, trying to get her joints to unfreeze.  “Did your practice run go well?”

“Yes, the pointers you gave me were very helpful.  It’s nice to have a person who knows the local turf.  Back home Aniki had us watch videos of the courses, and then we would get one night of practice before we had to race.”  Keisuke lit a cigarette.

“It’s good to hear I could, what do you think?”

“I like it.”  Keisuke responded.  “It’s short and high speed, with good variations of turns, it’s more of a sprint than I’m used to, but I like it.  Not quite like your home turf.”

“Yeah.”  Molly chuckled.  “He’s nicknamed it the ‘Little Green Hell.’”

“After the Nurburgring?”  Keisuke asked, arching an eyebrow not unlike his older brother.

“Yeah, I think, that’s the one in Germany right?”

“So my brother tells me you want to learn how to drift.”

Molly froze up, always feeling that one of these exchanges would turn into a confrontation at some point.  She nodded in response.

“That’s cool, he wants me to give you a ride along tonight after practice.”

“Cool.”  Molly chocked out, in stark contrast to Keisuke’s relaxed attitude.

“Why do you want to learn how to drift?  I’m sure you know it’s not the fasted way to race.”

 _ _Damn,__ something that required a real response.

“Because it looks cool, and I would like a new driving challenge.”

Keisuke took a drag of his cigarette.  “I can admire that, perhaps in the morning we can discuss some techniques.  But right now I have to over data with my brother.”

“Alright.”  Molly said, as Keisuke turned and walked towards the support van where his brother was standing.

 

* * *

 

 

Takumi slipped the clutch and prodded the gas to get the gas to get the perfect launch.  Immediately Matsumoto knew something was different, something was up.  The small dips and rises in the main straight were amplified at a speed he had never experienced as Takumi’s mechanic.  The engine screamed in ways that had never been heard before.  Takumi slammed home each shift.  The read out from the computer were in the stratosphere.  Clearly the kid had gone insane.  The speed alarm was chiming away in no time, and they quickly approached the first turn.  Tires howled as Takumi set the 86 into a perfect four wheel uphill drift, downshifting and stomping the gas.  The car ripped past Taber’s, Kenta’s mouth dropped as the 86 roared past, he had never seen the car move that fast.

Takumi looked straight ahead, his eyes totally focused on what part of the road was illuminated by the driving lights, and head lights.  He had to go faster, that was the only way he was going to win was to go faster.  The only way to go faster was to practice at full speed so that he could push that much harder when it came time to race.  He had to sharpen his skills so that he could keep on winning.  The 86 had always done the job, together they were totally unstoppable, that was until they met Mike.

Takumi jumped on the brakes, briefly, and with a flick of the steering wheel set the trusty 86 into another of his signature four wheel drifts.  The trees that were caught in the headlights were complete blurs as the sped past, rocketing down a straight away.  As the next left turn approached Matsumoto feared that at the speed they were going even the slightest mistake by Takumi would lead to animals picking bit of them out of the brush for months.  He feared even more breaking the kid’s concentration for something as mundane as reminding one of the double aces that he was only supposed to go at 85 percent.

The car glided through the turns just like Takumi always piloted the car, but the speed was amplified as they now faced a slight decline on approach to a right handed turn.  Takumi knew what lay just meters beyond the trees on the far side of the pavement, Lake Auburn, but he also knew that the 86 was almost as much a part of him as his fingers, or his toes, and he could use the hunk of metal, rubber and glass just like a finger.

The old black and white hatchback continued to scream and move in a way it never had before as Takumi pushed his hardest in practice.  Ryosuke had to know about this.  Matsumoto knew the motor was good and strong, but the car could only take so much.  He was still keeping it within the rev limit but he kept it revved higher and longer in the turns.  The motor would take it, something stupid would break, a valve spring, or the bearing on the alternator, something stupid, but one thing was for sure the tires wouldn’t last long, the suspension would wear out sooner.  Matsumoto sat tight until Takumi finishes the lap waiting until the last possible second to hit the brakes and slow down for the finish line.  On the way back to the starting line Matsumoto finally spoke up.

“That was a really fast lap Takumi.”  He said.  “That seemed to be a lot faster than 85 percent Ryosuke wants us to run at.”

“Yeah,” Takumi responded.  Matsumoto wouldn’t understand, he had never been on this side of the car, never sat in his seat and done everything in his powers to win and still come up short, he was a mechanic.

“You know the car can’t take that all the time, parts wear out stuff brakes, especially when you push that hard.”

“But I thought this was a race motor.”  Takumi responded.

“It is, but that doesn’t mean things won’t break, that’s just something that happens with cars.”  This was something the kid had a lot to learn about, to him much of the automotive world revolved around the old 86 that his father had always taken care of, and some knowledge about the other cars he had raced against.  He needed more experience.

“That fast?”  Ryosuke arched an eyebrow when Fumihiro reported Takumi’s first practice time.  “Are you sure that’s accurate?”

“Yes boss, I’m sure.”  Fumihiro responded, there was always a little variance in timing but not by the amount Takumi had just ripped off.

“3:15?”  Ryosuke asked again.

“Yes boss, 3:15.”  Fumihiro confirmed.

That meant that Takumi had disobeyed what was basically a standing order to hold to 85 percent for practice.  He would have to check with Matsumoto first, before he spoke with Takumi about it.  That time was significantly faster than that of either Harvey, or Keisuke.  This was something that Ryosuke had not anticipated, it was most likely a response to his loss to Mike.  The kid had never lost a race, when the motor blew against Kyouichi it was not considered a loss by anybody.  Losing to Mike was the first time he had lost and the car was what had come up short without breaking something.  Now his only option was to try and go as fast as he could in the old 86.

The True no hatchback rolled into the parking area and Takumi switched off the engine.  Ryosuke leaned against the FC; he had recorded Takumi’s time on the clipboard he held.  The unflappable leader of Project D lit a cigarette, and watched as Matsumoto made his way over to the FC.  Part way, when he was sure that Takumi couldn’t see him Matsumoto pulled a face to show Ryosuke how astounded he was.

“How fast?”  Ryosuke asked, not mincing his words.

“It was absolutely amazing, the fasted I’ve ever gone in a time trial.”

“Percentage wise, where was he?”

“If I had to guess,” Matsumoto let out a deep breath, “100 plus.  He was amazingly fast.  I don’t know how much of that the car can take.  I mean it will hold out, but if he drives like that every practice session I don’t know.”  He rubbed his hand across his face in exasperation.

“Did he let on as to why he pushed so hard?”

“No, he hardly said a word, you know, normal Takumi.”  Matsumoto shrugged.

“Hmm, I thought so Keisuke!”  Ryosuke called to his younger brother.

“Yeah Aniki?”  Keisuke said as he approached.

“How did you feel about your lap tonight?”

“Not bad, it was a good lap.”  Keisuke responded with his usual confidence.  “A usual first time.  I’ve been going a little easier since we’ve been spending more time getting prepared then we did back home.”

“Do you think you’ll be comfortable if I call off the rest of practice tonight?”

“Yeah, I guess it would be alright, I mean we still have almost a week of practice time left.”  The younger Takahashi brother responded.  “Why, what happened?”

“Something’s come up with Takumi that I have to handle.”

“Should I still give Molly the demonstration then?”

“Yes, she rode out in one of the support vans didn’t she?”  Keisuke nodded to his brother in response.  “Good wait, here after we leave so you can have a free run.”

“Alright.”  Keisuke responded before going off to find Molly.

There were come confused faces when Ryosuke announced that practice would end following Nakazato and Kenta’s practice runs, but none the less the members of Project D continued their routine.  Molly spotted Takumi going over the computer readouts with his mechanic, who she didn’t know was trying to convince him to slow down from that lap speed.  Nakazato and Kenta’s laps went without incident.  As the team packed up after the last run Molly hovered near Keisuke, careful not to get to close so that Keisuke wouldn’t think she was anxious, and just so she was plainly not in the way.  They were good enough to allow her to tag along as she wanted to make sure she didn’t make them angry.

As she waited Molly made her way over to Keisuke RX-7 to have a look, see if she could figure out something Mike had missed.  It was well beyond the RX-7 Mazda had unleashed to the street, gone was most of the nose, along with the signature flip up lights, in their place was what appeared to be a widebody style kit, with curves to redirect airflow and create downforce.  The hood with massive vents to suck hot air away from the motor, and especially the turbines.  The side skirts allowed for extra width on the tires, which in turn increased grip.  Outback oh, the back, a rear diffuser, and a wing, no doubt that it did its job.  Separately most of these were stereotypical tuner car pieces a wing, a bodykit, bigger wheels, and low profile tires.  On Keisuke’s RX-7 it was done properly, things matched and worked well together, the colors were correct and it all worked, it was complete, not chintzy, and half assed like 90% of tuner cars.  It was a car built by people who knew what they were doing, and knew why they were doing it.

“You ready?”  Keisuke asked.

Molly snapped out of the contemplative trance regarding the RX-7.  “Yeah, whenever you want to go.”  She responded.

“We just have to wait a little so they can get back to the house before we set out, but we might as well get in.”

“Right.”  She answer and popped open the door.  She slipped easily into the bucket seat.  It felt incredibly weird to sit on the side she usually drove from, and have no wheel in front of her.  Molly did manage to steal a look at the instruments, the problem was that the tachometer was the only gauge that meant anything to her because revs were neither nether metric nor standard.  That tachometer told her a lot though, it was big and mounted in the center of the instrument cluster, signifying the cars sporting intent.  Mike and the boys had never really taken the car seriously as a performance machine because of the Wankle motor, and turbos would only  add to their problems, right?

Keisuke cranked over the motor, and it caught almost instantly and settled down to an idle.  One thing none of them had ever gotten used to was that sound of the rotary, but it was there for Molly, a weird whirring sound hiding just beneath the whistle of the turbine.  A couple of quick shots of the accelerator, sent the motor wailing into the upper reaches of the RPM level.  The motor settled back down, and the younger Takahashi brother continued to wait.

“Ready?”  Keisuke asked, casting a side long glance at his passenger.

“Yeah.”  Molly responded, checking the buckle on the racing harness.

“Good.”  Keisuke said with a smirk.  He stabbed the gas, and worked the clutch as if he’d been doing it his entire life.  The 13B rotary’s shriek mixed with an immense wail from the twin turbochargers, all doubts of the Mazda’s performance vanished.  Molly was pinned back in the seat with almost the same force as her Tiger.  Keisuke banged a couple of gears as they blasted down the first straightaway.

Molly gripped the leg bolsters of the bucket seat as they approached the first turn, sure they were going to careen off into the woods so hard they would never be able to tell what was bone and what was tree.  At the last moment Keisuke turned in with expert precision, and the tale began to slide out and it kept going.  Molly’s heart jumped into her throat as Keisuke poured on the power and counter steered.  Molly felt the car pendulum back the other direction as they yellow RX-7 drifted up the right hand turn, the scenery blurred in front of them as Molly found it tough to focus on anything the way Keisuke was driving.  He caught the rearend perfectly and hammered the gas, sending the yellow FD rocketing down the straightaway that passed in front of Taber’s.

Just at the edge of the headlights was a wall of pine trees as they road moved down and to the right following the shoreline.  Even thought Molly knew Keisuke was a top flight driver she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were about to go skidding through the trees to land in Lake Auburn, not to far on the other side of the trees.  Maybe the doubt came from not having really gotten to know Keisuke, or maybe it was because he was demonstrating a driving method that lived at the edge of tire adhesion, just a little over excitement would lead to them being scattered among the trees.

Again Keisuke powered over into another drift, the tires squealed far more than anything Molly was used to, the motor screamed and the world seemed like it could come off its axis at any moment.  It kept going like that, every turn, tire smoke, incredible sound, and the punch low in the back when Keisuke had it pointed straight.

After watching how the car moved Molly knew she had to see how it was that Keisuke was able to make the car move like that.  Not wanting to be too obvious, unless she were to brake his concentration she turned  her head just enough so she could see him.  The lights from the dashboard provided just enough life to see by.  It was easy to tell that beneath the spiked blonde hair was a very intensely concentrated face, eyes focused on the road ahead, not looking to shift gears, just an occasional glance at the gauges to make sure everything was alright.  He changed gears with amazing speed, and the steering effort that went into executing the perfect drifts the way he had been doing the whole time was incredible.

It seemed like in no time they were slowing down along the last straightaway.  The younger Takahashi brother downshifted into third gear, and the whir of the tiny rotary motor, and the whine of the turbine steadily decreased.

“That was fun.”  Keisuke said as he put down the window.  “I haven’t done that in awhile.”

 Molly looked over at him, as he lit a cigarette.  “You haven’t done that in awhile?”  Molly asked, astounded, eyes wide open as well as mouth.

“It’s not the fasted way to get around course, and with the modifications that have been done to this car I have more grip.  It’s faster, but it doesn’t look as cool to grip turn all the time.  But drifting is fun too.”

“Well yeah, but you haven’t done that for awhile?  And you were that good?”  Molly asked.

“Yeah, I just haven’t done it like that in a practice time trial situation.”

“You used to race like this, I mean all the time?”

“Yeah, we used to, but drifting can only take you to a certain level, or at least that’s what my brothers made clear, he used to do it too, but when he really needed to win a race against a tough opponent he used grip driving technique.”

“Oh.”  Molly said.

“That’s why it perplexes me that you want to learn how to drift, you already have some very skilled drivers on you team, and drifting is not the fastest way to race.  But a new challenge is always good.  I hope you are able to master it quickly.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Mike!  Phone!”  John called through the door to the office/store of Hillside Auto.

“Who is it?”  Mike called back, stepping out from under the lift, oily rag in his hand.

“Just answer the phone.”  John responded.

“Hillside Auto, this is Mike, what can I do for you?”

“Hey, Mike, how come you never call me?”

“Maybe because the long distance rates to Japan are ridiculous.  What have you been up to?”

“Racing, going to college you know, what I would have been doing if I still lived in America.”

“Yeah, what do you have for a car now?”

“A ’95 Nissan Skyline GTS-T type M.  It’s not a GT-R, but I’ve made it plenty quick, in fact I just won a race.”

“Good, nice to see you’re keeping up with the game.”

“So how are things for you?”  Sarah asked.

“Right now.”  Mike paused, “Crumby.  I hate that freakin’ Renault Alliance, shittiest car I’ve ever worked on, the seats suck,  they have no support, their uncomfortable, the interior is awful, the motor has no fuckin’ power, and they go and put a skid shield underneath the oil pan, and as soon as you get the drain plug the slightest bit loose you’re leaking oil all over the skid plate, and it’s dripping down your arm, and when you get the damn thing out oil gets all over the skid plate because you can’t get the drain plug out of there quick enough.  I swear if I could find the Renault design team responsible for this piece of shit, I’d run down the line and hold my hand out to slap them all in the face.  I just want to shoot this damn piece of shit car.”

“With what?”  Sarah responded.

“Rifle, shotgun, 50 cal machine gun, bazooka, and A-10 Warthog, anything all these cars need to be destroyed.”

“Oh, Mike.  So I saw you beat Takumi Fujiwara.”

“Who?  Oh the kid with the old Corolla hatch, yeah, that kid has a ton of skill.”

“Do you realize what you did?  That kid, and that old Corolla have never lost, I mean never, he’s beaten GT-Rs, S2000s, Lancer Evos, you name it the kids beat it.  I don’t know if you know this but that kid is a legend around here.  I think you put all of Shibukawa’s racers into depression until his next race, that is of course unless he loses again.”

“Yeah, but we lost overall, John, and Fox lost to the RX-7, and that Skyline.”

“Mike, I don’t think you understand what you were up against.  Project D dominated Gunma prefecture, they challenged everybody and won!”

“So what are they doing here?  If they’re that good why are they here?”

“To dominate America, they don’t fool around, they’re going to prove a point, and you threw a big ‘ole monkey wrench in the whole scheme.  I’m glad to see that you’re still on top of your game.”

“Yeah, you too.”  Mike responded the fact of what he had done beginning to sink in.  “You know I think I’m gonna go to Maine this weekend.”

“Don’t tell me you sent them to Stevie?  You didn’t.”

“I did.”  Mike responded.


	8. New Information

Molly could hear the sounds as soon as she woke up, impact wrenches, the tire machine, and different voices yelling to be heard over the din of work in a shop.  Project D was up and at it early.  In a few minutes she was downstairs sipping on a cup of coffee, through the open door to the barn Molly could hear the sounds as they kept working.  A few minutes latter she was leaning against the doorframe watching as Matsumoto worked on Keisuke’s FD.

“Good morning.”  Keisuke said as he walked over to where Molly was standing.

“Yeah, morning.”  Molly said, knowing just how attractive she looked first thing in the morning.

“You’re up late, and you didn’t even have to practice last night.”

“Yeah, well I’m on vacation, this is like your job, isn’t it?”  Molly responded.

“Well I guess you’re right.”  Keisuke answered.  “I hadn’t really thought of it like that.  It’s tough work and takes a lot of dedication and determination, but I guess because its driving I never thought of it as work before.”  Keisuke looked a little thoughtful.

“So is there something wrong with your car?”  Molly asked, “Because it seemed to do really good last night.  I’d like to get a chance to try it out soon.”

“To be honest Molly,”  Keisuke paused.  “I don’t know how much time I’m going to have to show you how to drift.  I really have to focus on racing and preparing for the Bow Tie Boys.  You might want to ask one of the others, but not Takumi.  He’ll be just as busy.”

Molly thought about it for a moment, it made sense, it was reasonable.  “Well this is your job, isn’t it?”  She smiled.

“Right, I’ll try to give you some pointers when I get a chance.”  Keisuke responded.  He’d never anticipated anything like this.  Especially people who had been spying on them just a little more than a week before.  The competition was good, and the people were nice as well, he hoped it would continue.

“I appreciate it.”  Molly said, taking a sip of her coffee.  “I should stop holding you up though, I’m sure there’s stuff you need to do.”

“Hold on a second.”  Keisuke said.  “Can I ask you something?”  He said in a low voice.

“Sure.”  Molly said uneasily.

“What’s up with Stevie?”  Keisuke asked quietly.  “I mean he doesn’t seem like he’s old enough to be retired but he doesn’t seem to work.  I’m just curious, that’s all.”

“Well,”  Molly started nervously, “He was working until just a year and a half ago.  He used to run Hillside Auto.  But one night they were getting ready to go, and Stevie had bent over to pick up his cooler.  You know the big steal security door between bays 2 and 3?  Well someone forgot to hold it for him, and it hit him in the head.  He had a concussion, had to go to the Hospital, even had to go see specialist in Boston a couple of times a month for awhile.  They put him through all sorts of tests, gave him some medication, he still can’t smell properly from the meds, which is why he sometimes lets cars run way to rich.  But after taking the time off because of the injury he just couldn’t get back into the high pressure environment of the shop.  Mike never really told me what exactly was wrong with Stevie.”

“Oh,” Keisuke said.  Something he couldn’t see something that wasn’t obvious.

Ryosuke sat in the living room; he was flipping through one of the motoring magazines, while he waited for Takumi.  He needed to talk to his young driver about what was going on, what was causing him to drive so, not recklessly, he was to in control to call it reckless, but insane.  He heard the door to a room close followed by slightly uncoordinated steps thudding down the stairs.

“Takumi?”  Ryosuke said in a low voice.  Takumi turned slowly, scratching behind his head and yawning as he turned to face Ryosuke.   His hair was messed up, and judging by the bare feet, and half opened eyes he had just rolled out of bed.  “Come here, I have to speak with you.”

“Alright, what’s going on Ryosuke?”

“Last night, Matsumoto said that you were pushing far beyond the eighty percent we usually maintain while practicing.  You understand why we have that rule, right?”

“Of course I do.”  Takumi responded, now fully awake as he knew Ryosuke was about to lecture him.

“Then why were you pushing so hard?  We use practice to familiarize ourselves with the course, so that come race time we can push to the limit.  It’s also a safety issue.  We can’t have you flying off a turn through the trees ending up in the lake can we?”

“Right.”  Takumi nodded, an uneasy feeling settling in his stomach.

“So why were you pushing so hard last night?”  Ryosuke had a good idea of what Takumi’s response was going to be.

“I don’t like losing.”  Takumi said.  Ryosuke noticed a slight change in his young driver, his eyes caught fire, his muscles went stiff, and there was a hard edge to his voice that wasn’t there a moment before.  “After the last race against Mike, I just don’t want to lose again, I don’t like to lose, and I don’t want to lose again.  I figured the only way to make sure I keep winning is to go faster in practice, so I can go faster in the race.” Ryosuke nodded, he knew before hand it was going to be along those lines.  It was good, he wanted to win, and it clearly pushed him to try harder, it was going to make him succeed.  Takumi’s quiet drive was going to ensure his success at the next level.

“Takumi.”  Ryosuke said slowly.  “You have to understand that losing is part of racing.  You didn’t lose that race because you lacked skill, you lost that race because the 86 is not the racing machine that Mike’s Cobra is.  If you had been at Le Mans, the 86 would not have even been competing against Mike’s Cobra.  Losing is part of racing, and there’s no reason to take things out on your car.  It can only handle so much.”

As Ryosuke spoke those last words Takumi thought back to his race against Kyoichi Sudoh.  During that race Takumi had tried as hard as he could, fueled by pure emotion.  He didn’t want to go through that again, the thought of losing the 86. . .

“You need to take it back a little bit in practice.  I know you want to win, and you want to succeed, but you can’t win races in a broken car.

 

* * *

 

 

The sun was setting over Lake Auburn, reflecting red, orange and gold off of the water’s surface.  A Marlboro Red Corvette convertible cruised along Lake Shore Drive.  The top was down, the wind played through Bill’s hair, and the exhaust not mixed with the whine of the Muncie four speed.  Things still weren’t going well, he had spent the last couple of nights at a friend’s house to allow his dad some time to cool off about the race.  This was the first time Bill had ventured to Lake Shore since he’d gotten home, he knew the others would need some time to cool off as well, especially Brian.

The 327 V8 settled down to on idle as Bill pulled to a stop at the end of Lake Shore, he would have to go home at some point, his tools were there, most of his cloths, and the fact was he was afraid what would happen to the team if he didn’t go home eventually.  If he didn’t do that he would have to start another team, or race alone.  In a few minutes he was home, parking the car in the driveway, as it still wasn’t to safe in the garage yet.

Amanda met him half way across the front lawn.  “I heard you pull in.”  She said.  “We haven’t seen you in awhile”  She said nervously.

“Yeah, I figured my being here would only make things tougher.”  Bill responded to his younger sister.

“You would think so.”  Amanda responded, “Dad’s been going crazy since you left and Bryan’s been harping after Dad to let him take over the spot in the driver’s seat.”

“Yeah, I figured that would happen.  Have you guys been practicing?”

“Well, Brian’s tried to get things going, but after losing to Harvey and trying to prove to Dad that he’s different that you they’ve been kind of short.  I’ve still been going out in the morning before work?”

“Still?”

“Oh, I’ve been doing it for a long time, I knew I always had to work harder to prove I could be part of the team.”

Bill smiled a little bit, but he knew just inside the door, he was going to catch hell.  The door hadn’t been shut for more than a second before Brian sprung up off the couch, stalking towards his older brother with almost predatory intent.

“What the hell is wrong with you Bill?  Do you realize what you’ve just thrown away?”

“Oh God, I can’t even get in the door before someone goes nuts on me.”  Bill brought his arms up, and quickly dropped them back to his side in exasperation.

“Come on, if I had been given half the opportunities that Dad’s given you I would have been in the Winston Cup Series already.  He’s always like you better even though I’m a better driver.”

“Shut up Brian, if you’re the better driver how come I still outrun you on Lake Shore every time.  If you’re the better driver how come I still run faster laps at all the ovals in the area.  You just want Dad’s attention, you want attentions from anybody who will give it to you, that’s why you challenged one the most ridiculous cars in the area to a race, and lost.  Even you’re LS6 Chevelle couldn’t beat a little old Galaxie!  Yeah people notice an LS6 Chevelle, especially when its losing to a full sized car!”  Bill roared.

Brian almost physically staggered backwards, his older brother hat told him many times before that the Chevelle was not the best car to be attacking Lake Shore Drive in, but he had never put it in those terms before.

“Alright Bill.”  Brian said.  Beginning to recover.  “At least I didn’t blow my big chance, wreck a car and destroy a whole racing season all in one swoop.  Go ahead, waste your life driving past Taber’s every night.  But I need something better, I want something bigger than that and I will get it!”  Brian shouted, his voice booming through the house.

“Aww Fuck it!  I expect to see you at practice tonight.”  Bill turned around and stormed out of the house.

“Way to go Brian.”  Amanda scowled at her older brother, hands on hips looking just over the top of her glasses.  “You’ve got what you wanted.  Dad said you could finish out the season for him, you’ve got what you wanted, you’re gonna have your chance don’t blow it.”  She admonished before leaving the room.

“You’re an idiot.”  Andy scoffed as he walked past on the way to the kitchen.

 

* * *

 

 

__That night, Lake Shore Drive._ _

__

The four cars of the Bow Tie Boys sat silent under the lights of Taber’s parking lot.  Bill stood uneasily in front of his brothers and sister, no doubt Brian would have something more to say.  It was awkward, his Dad would have been talking about him the entire time he was gone, about how he turned his back on his commitment, about how he was a quitter, how he’d given up, and wrecked the car to boot, and now he was wasting time, and his future driving Lake Shore.

“Alright.”  He began.  “I know you guys know I quit Dad’s team.  I couldn’t deal with the pressure he was putting on me to be something I’m not.  NASCAR is not what I want to do, and rightly or wrongly I was the one he chose to carry out his dream.  I just don’t want to do it anymore.”  He paused.  “Let’s practice.  We’ll start with follow the leader.”

Bill walked quickly over to his Corvette, leapt in and fired up the Fuel injected 327.  His brothers and sister followed suit in their cars.  He was nervous, he knew he had to prove a lot to them, at least to his brothers anyway, that he was still in control, that he was still the leader that the team needed.  Bill put the car into first gear with a satisfying __Ka-chunck.__ Bill nailed the gas, and began slipping the clutch for a good hard launch.  Barley audible over the sound of the motor, and the whine from the Muncie four speed was the sound of the other’s cars.

The Corvette roared as Bill hammered down the straight away.  He was driving as if it were a race, giving that extra twenty percent, slamming home each shift, waiting until the last possible moment to hit the brakes, the soonest possible second to stand on the gas pedal, working the large wood rimmed steering wheel back and forth with each turn.  He pushed the ‘Vette harder than he ever had in practice before.  He could feel it in the turns, the skinny tires pushed just to the threshold of their grip, just under the point where they would lose traction.  In a brief second Bill was able to steal a look at the rearview mirror and could barely see the headlights of the next car behind him.

It continued that way for the rest of the practice.  Bill never relinquished the first position.  The rest of the team was stunned.

 

* * *

 

 

“Chris, you won’t believe what happened this weekend.”

“Yeah,” Chris responded, looking at his teammate.  Chris was tall, just over six feet, with dark hair and blue eyes. “What happened?”

“One of the Bow Tie Boys lost the guy with the Chevelle.”  Chris’ ears had perked up at the sound of that.

“What happened?”  He asked.  They had been waiting awhile for the Bow Tie Boys to show any sign of weakness.  The reality of the situation was that the Bow Tie Boys were good, and all they did was win.  The two teams had raced last summer, and it was close, but the Bow Tie Boys ended up sweeping Chris and his teammates.  For the rest of that summer they had worked at becoming better eventually carving out a niche for themselves as the second best team on Lake Shore.  They were waiting, watching for the slightest sign of weakness from the number one team, and now it looked like they had their opportunity, there was a chink in the armor.

“Alright, we’ll challenge them this weekend.”  Chris said, his eyes narrowing.  “Who did he lose to?”

“Some old guy, in a big old Ford.”  Dave said.  “Oh, and Jen has spotted a couple of cars floating around, that look like they might be challengers at some point.”

“What, are they serious?”  Chris asked.

“It looks like it, there was a kid with an old 86, it had a carbon fiber hood, and watanabes.  There was also a guy with a late model RX-7 that had a really nice bodykit and sounded wicked strong.”

“An 86 with watanabes?  You can’t get those easily around here, do you think these guys aren’t from around here.”

“Jen did say they were both Asian, she said there was a sticker for the __Red Suns__ on the RX-7, but she didn’t see any stickers on the 86, so I suppose its possible that they aren’t from the same team.”

“They’re not just posers, are they, I mean anybody can stick a carbon fiber hood on an 86, and bodykit a RX-7.”

“No Jen, said the kid in the 86 wouldn’t drag her on Route 4, either he knew he couldn’t stand up to her, or he’s more experienced and won’t get baited into a race.  She spotted the guy with the RX-7 at Wal-Mart, and he took it wicked easy in the parking lot, you know how posers drive, they race at the stop light even when you don’t challenge ‘em, and they raise hell in parking lots.  The make us all look bad.”

“Right.”  He paused, “We’ll see how this pans outs.”

“So how’s the Prelude?”

“It’s fuckin beautiful.  I got that new chip put in, it’s getting over 200 to the wheels, it’s really quick now.”  Chris smiled, as he thought about the Prelude, it was a 1996 model, in black, and it was fast, sure it had its problems, being front wheel drive wasn’t really that good, but it just took a little while to get used to, and different set of skills, but it also had weight on its side too, it wasn’t as heavy as Dave’s 3000GT, and the motor was stronger than Jen’s turbo B16.  It would be interesting to see what happened if they were able to race the two new guys.

“You know what?”  Chris asked, “I think I’m going to go take a spin on Lake Shore.”  He said before Dave had time to respond.  “I’ll see you in a little while.”

Chris walked out to his black 1996 Prelude, and fired it up.  The VTEC motor settled to an idle.  In a couple of minutes he was ready to leave, and made his way across Auburn to Lake Shore.  It was dark as Chris turned down Lake Shore, and immediately stepped it up, feeling the continuous surge as the motor went into VTEC mode as he held the revs above four grand, the motor wailed away.  He could see in the turn out a handful of cars, it was hard to make out the make and model at the speed he was travelling.  He didn’t really give it a second thought as he continued down Lake Shore, feeling the touch of understeer as he entered corners, but it was easy enough to deal with, he knew how to handle the car, he was used to it.  He knew how to handle it, and he was fast.  

The Prelude under steered the worst on the tight corners following Taber’s, all it meant was that Chris had to get on the brakes earlier than other cars, but he practiced, he knew where the latest point was that he could safely brake for the turn, and carry the most speed.  In a few minutes he was at the other end, feeling good about being on Lake Shore for the first time in a couple of weeks.  As he turned the car around Chris thought about the other cars that had been sitting along side Lake Shore.  It was probably another team practicing, most likely the Bow Tie Boys, but with the news that Dave had given him, it was worth checking out and making sure.

As he made his back down Lake Shore towards Route 4 he saw pair of bright headlights coming in his direction, and they were coming fast.  To be safe Chris slowed down and pulled further over to the side of the road.  In blur the car was past him, turbo screaming, and tires squealing.  “Wow what was that?”  He thought.  He was really interested as he approached the turn out where he had spotted the cars before.  Trying not to be conspicuous Chris tried to keep his speed reasonable, but wanted to make sure he saw who was there, because they were evidently racers of some sort or another.  Out the passenger window he saw the small group of cars, and a pair of vans.  An 86, a Silvia, a GT-R.

“What the fuck, a GT-R!”  Chris almost yelled, he kept trying to look out the back window as he drove away, trying make sure that he really saw a Skyline.  “No way, these guys have to be for real.”


End file.
